


Modern Way of Death

by vhsgod



Series: A Delayed Wish [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, 1990s, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Adventure, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Existential Angst, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, LGBTQ Character, Mental Illness, Multi, Mystery, Nonbinary Character, Supernatural - Freeform, Trans Character, historical fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2018-10-14 12:50:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 139,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10536819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vhsgod/pseuds/vhsgod
Summary: "Our past shouldn't be known as the happiest days of our lives, it should be recognized as one of the most frightening years in the history of the world. All it takes is to show the world how violence and evil can corrupt the lives of our friends and families, and how it affected my own life as well."As the 20th century comes to a close, acclaimed writer Scott "Scottie" Marnon gives a word about how the daily horrors of the world has affected the lives of his friends, including his own, and speaks about supernatural forces and a demonic deity.





	1. Jules

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for the following in this chapter: Mentions of the Holocaust.
> 
> Kudos are also appreciated!

    For the fourth time in my life living in the United States, I decided to move again and this time at a greater distance. I had lived in San Jose, California for the past four years since ‘64. Before that I settled in Corpus Christi in southern Texas for fifteen years. Prior to that I was living in Philadelphia for nine years, and before that I had lived in the Bronx for seven years, ever since my younger brother Francisco and I emigrated to the country. We didn’t come here by choice, but for our safety.

    The two of us were born in Toluca, Mexico in the years 1919 and 1925. Our father was a native to Mexico and was engaged with politics for as long as I could remember. Mother was Jewish, ethnically and religiously. She was born at the dawn of the new century from Jewish immigrants that had arrived somewhere from Spain. While my brother, my father, and I didn’t practice Judaism, my mother considered it an important part of her cultural identity. I never had been a religious or holy person, but I had always thought that being Jewish was important to my identity as a whole.

    I knew I was slightly different from my peers when I grew up, but regardless of that I made friends easily and was an outgoing student in school. I was mostly a happy, carefree child in early childhood, but in the fall of October 1929, my world and my outlook on life was changed forever. The Wall Street Crash that year sent the entire world into economic disaster. While my country wasn’t as greatly affected as America and the European continent, there was a sharp drop in its income and the Great Depression made it quite difficult fulfill its constitutional mandate to promote social equality. For other reasons unknown, my parents decided to move to Germany.

    We arrived in the country in the summer of 1930 with little to no knowledge of what was occurring at that time. Father was still involved in local and federal politics and Mother stayed at home doing her best to take care of my brother and I. At this time I had just turned eleven, and Francisco was only five and about to enter school. When school started in the fall of that same year, it suddenly became a challenge for me to become friends with anyone. Most of the students in my year excluded me from their groups, but luckily I was welcomed by a few others and became friends with them. They were Jewish too and had faced similar discrimination, but it was only recently that they said this type of prejudice was becoming more common. Back then my fluency in German was still under development; therefore, I wasn’t able to translate about half of what my friends were talking about. I was still able to remember some information, such as the discussion of rallies and anti-Semitic propaganda. Years later you could automatically guess who it was that was majorly responsible for the mass slaughter of six million people.

    In the year 1933, I faced another prime change in my life. The President of Germany, Paul von Hindenburg, made the fatal decision of appointing a corrupt and malicious man as Chancellor. I dare not say his name since he literally teared my family apart, along with many others. Once it was announced to the people a new leader had entered office, my father and mother gathered my brother and I into the living room and sat down with us to have a talk.

    “You and Francisco have to leave Germany immediately,” my father whimpered quietly. “It’ll take awhile to get you to America, but it’s better for you and your brother to live there.”

    “But, but,” I started to stutter, “but where are we going to go? Why can’t you go with us?”

    “It’ll make the process even longer, dear,” my mother refuted. “Getting you and Francisco to America first would be easier.”

    “Mama, where would we be going to?” Francisco brought the question back up.

    “The Bronx. It’s in New York City, in New York. My sister Klara lives there; she’ll be taking care of you two.”

    I was somewhat a little relieved that my aunt Klara would be watching over us, but I was still deathly anxious about leaving my parents.

    After going through long and difficult processes for immigration, my brother and I emigrated from Germany on the 22nd of March that same year and landed in America about a week or so later. Before meeting up with my auntie, we had to go through various inspections to see if we were supposed to be here in the States. We passed and were able to live with our auntie. Klara was my mother’s sister, who was younger than her by ten years. She had immigrated to the United States at the beginning of the Great Depression attempting to seek better opportunities for jobs. However, it has been a struggle for her since racism still prevailed in the States, but thankfully America has grown slightly more diverse over the years and has granted much more freedom than Germany. Still, I knew I was going to have a hard time fitting in.

    Klara was still young and had not married yet, so having to take care of us brought her some company and made her life a little less gloomy. I was glad to be staying with her too; she was an older sister figure to me, and I aspired to be just like her. She was caring and protective of Francisco and I, but still loved to joke around and have fun every once in awhile. Though she could be quite busy sometimes, she’s aware of what goes on around her and especially tries to keep in touch with the news. For me, I tried my best to drive my attention away from politics. I didn’t know why but the discussion of politics made my heart race, my breathing short, and made me feel overwhelmed. It was hard to describe what it was at the time, but I learned later that this feeling wasn’t just an emotion.

    In the first seven years of living in America, I struggled harder than I thought I would. Not only did I face bullying in school and dealt with one of Klara’s boyfriends acting horrible towards me, I continued to struggle with finding a job. For on and off three years after high school, I had searched for jobs until I decided that it was time for me to move. It was in 1940, the dawn of the Second World War, that I figured I would move to Philadelphia, a populous city with a growing culture. I began to wonder if I would truly fit in this scene of city life, but I knew I had to actually place myself there to experience it and see if was for me or not.

    I was able to do more things in Philly than in the Bronx, but I was still forced to put up with the discrimination of that day. As always, it was pestering and made me worried for the future, but then came a day where I was glad I had left Germany many years ago.

    September 2nd, 1945 was the end of the Second World War, which greatly relieved me. All news coverage of battles and bombings worsened my fears of the world possibly coming to an end. The announcement of its end made me grateful that we wouldn’t have to worry about a worldwide conflict any longer, but one concern had been at the back of my mind for years: How are my parents doing? Where are they? And when are they coming? I knew in my early years of being here, I was deeply concerned about what was going on in Germany and what they were doing about it. As the years went by, I somehow forgot about them and didn’t realize until now that I never received a word about them. It was then a month later I learned about their fate when Aunt Klara sent me a letter. Enclosed it read the following:

 

_Hi Jules:_

 

_I’m writin’ to you ‘bout how Francisco’s doing. He finally got a new job! He works with cars and whatnot, and started dating this girl. Her name’s Clarisa. She don’t really speak English that good, she came straight from Mexico. I’m not sure where though. Francisco and her speak always talk to each other in Spanish, and sometimes he’ll teach her some English words or phrases. She’s a very outspoken and talkative girl and likes acting. Maybe she could be an actress one day, and do films in Hollywood!_

_Aside from the happy stuff, I was told some devastating news yesterday (September 24th in case this letter is late). Apparently after you and Francisco left Germany back in ‘33, your parents were unable to leave. Things got worse too. Hitler started outlawing the Jewish people from doing certain things, and then just rounded ‘em up and sent ‘em to camps. But these were labor and death camps. Though your parents were able to avoid being sent to the gas chambers, they eventually ended up dying at the Auschwitz camp before it was liberated._

_I’m not sure what there is to do now. Ever since I got word of their deaths, I have began to feel that life has no meaning in it, y’know? The war is over, but what’s there to do now? Part of the world has been destroyed and now it’s in ruins. They were people's homes, but now where will they go? Some of them have lost family too, like us. Where do we turn to now, Jules? How will we go on in life? I know I have my life together now and I’ve been married for seven years, but what’s there to do? What is our new purpose?_

_I don’t have answers to these, but I guess the best thing to do now is to see what life will do next. Whatever happens, I know something good can come outta it._

 

_Sincerely, Klara Baum._

 

    I felt that my heart had broken into pieces after reading Klara’s letter. I didn’t know how to reply to it, or thought about what I was going to do with my life now. For some part of it, I’ve been waiting for my parents to come back safe and sound. I had never thought of a backup plan in case things went wrong; I just only looked at the better things of life. Now that my hopes of my parents coming to the States have been shattered, I wasn’t sure what I could do with my life anymore.

    I tried to find a new purpose in my life for the next four years in Philly, but at the end of the 40s I had assumed that there was no hope in the East Coast anymore for me. At that time I had only just two options to choose from. One of them was to move out and go live in Corpus Christi in southern Texas, to see if that was my place. The latter was to commit suicide. I knew that option wasn’t good to settle on, but recently I had plunged into more depressive periods than ever. Sometimes I would feel . . . how should I say this? I wasn’t exactly happy, but I was filled with loads of energy and felt that I could do anything. I would talk at a faster pace and my thoughts would race through my head. I was afraid to tell anyone about how I felt, for I was scared that they would think I was mad in the head or needed to be locked up.

    Luckily, I didn’t take my life away. I passed through another depressive episode and made my way to Texas in the South. Though Corpus Christi was nearby Mexico and had a larger Latino population, the racism was worse than in the North. Despite trouble, I began my mission once again to look for a purpose in life. In the first few years of living in Texas, I went to college -- yes, in my 30s -- to become certified in teaching history. I’ve always been fascinated by the topic of it. Even if I didn’t like the talk of politics or tried to ignore the news of what was going on between us and the Soviet Union, I would still like to teach kids about what is going on and what we can learn from these events. Hopefully, we can do something that’ll prevent future conflicts or at least avoid them, or know what actions to take if it does happen again.

    In the summer of 1956, I was certified to teach history and immediate took up a job at one of the newer high schools in the area, W.B. Ray High School, and started my first year of teaching with the 1956-57 school year. There were students there that appreciated my work ethic and thanked me for my cooperation, which I was happy for. But there were some that obviously didn’t want me to be at this school, mainly the white students. I pretended not to care about their harsh words or slurs, but inside I felt doomed. Years later in October of 1962 while the Civil Rights Movement was hustling and rock n’ roll was on the rise, I was experiencing the worst panic attack of my lifetime.

    Sometimes ignorance is a blessing, but when I tried to ignore the news of the Cuban Missile Crisis, everyone was talking about it. Instead of going to my job as always, I had called for a substitute for a few days because I didn’t want my students witnessing my breakdowns. For that span of time, I stayed at home doing nothing but having multiple panic attacks while believing it was really the end. Even when I wasn’t having an attack, I remained in a depressive episode and felt nihilistic about life. At the climax of the crisis when I thought the world was ending, my brother called to comfort me and told me it was going to be alright, even though it didn’t seem like it to me.

    “It’s gonna be okay, Jules. Please stop crying,” Francisco replied on the other end of the phone.

    “I can’t, I can’t. I fucking . . .” I gasped. “I’m gonna fucking die, G-God. I can’t stop crying so much, my fucking God.”

    Thankfully the tide turned for us and the crisis was averted. I was stable enough to go back to my job, but as soon as I got back there the first day I was called up and asked to take part in a meeting that afternoon. I agreed to it and attended the meeting after school ended. However, it wasn’t good news for me. My job was terminated after the staff had learned from the students that I was considered “unstable and insane”, and apparently the principal of the school wasn’t fond of me being in that state. Therefore, I lost my job thanks to an undiagnosed condition.

    In my last two years of living in Texas, I took up different jobs to raise money to move again. I reached my goal by May of 1964 and finally left Corpus Christi in the summer to live in San Jose in California. Before I took up teaching again that year, I visited the hospital to discuss my condition with my new doctor. He was a older white guy, but luckily he wasn’t a racist, or was trying his best to unlearn it. After I had some tests, the results for my condition came in.

    “So what is it, Doc?” I questioned.

    “Well,” he started, “it’s not just one, but two diagnoses Ms. Malanzki. You seem to have severe anxiety, which gives explanation for anxiety or panic attacks you’ve had in the past.”

    “I see. What else?”

    “You have also been diagnosed with manic depression. There’s not much to say about it since research on it is still being done, but basically you experience highs and lows differently than normal people would.”

    “That makes a lot of sense. Is there treatment?”

    “You will have to see a psychiatrist about that.”

    Unfortunately at that time, there was no available medication to treat my illness. While my psychiatrist did note that they were testing a substance with some patients, it hadn’t been approved by the government yet. It disappointed me and made me believe that I would never get better. Despite not getting immediate treatment for manic depression, I was glad about going back to my job. Though I was teaching at a different school, Andrew Hill High School, I kept my health to myself out of fear I would get fired again if I spoke of it.

    One of the few things I expressed while teaching was talking about how I supported the Civil Rights Movement and how my family and my life was affected by World War II. Some of my students thought it was boring or they didn’t care about it, but some of them did enjoy my class and a few had stated that I was their favorite teacher. Overall, my educational career in San Jose was deemed much better than my career back in Corpus Christi. My only horrible experience while in San Jose was one summer in 1967 when I was punched in the left eye by a white guy while I went out to buy groceries. I didn’t feel too bad after the incident, but apparently my eye was damaged. I had to be hospitalized for a few months and be operated on. After the operations, the doctors confirmed that I could still see out of my left eye, but it was permanently dilated. I didn’t really mind it, all I cared about who was substituting for me during the first month of school.

    The year 1968, the present day, came along and I decided again that it was time for me to move, and this time to Brooklyn in New York. My students were excited for me about going to teach in New York City, but were also sad that I was leaving the school soon. I reassured them that I wasn’t leaving until the school year was done and over with, but when the end of the school year arrived, a farewell party was held for my departure.

    When the day was done and over with that mid-June, I drove home and resumed packing. The rest of the story leads up to the present day, where I am about to arrive at the JFK International Airport. The airport is nearby my new home in Brooklyn so I won’t have to travel much more to get there. However, I still felt anxious about the plane coming to a stop. This trip had been the second time in my life that I rode a plane, but I had a rational fear of plane crashes. There hadn’t been any inconveniences during the flight as of now, but I kept my guard up in case some news came up.

    Thankfully there was no problem landing upon arriving at the airport. It was an exhausting trip from the West Coast to the East Coast, but I was grateful to be here in the city once again and to be walking on solid, steady ground. As I rushed to exit the airport, I accidentally bumped into a young man and caused him to fall and spill some of the documents he was carrying. I settled down my bags and attempted to help the man recover his papers.

    “I’m so so sorry about that,” I apologized, quickly snatching the papers. “I’m sorry, I’m in a rush.”

    “It’s fine,” he stuttered, revealing his British accent. His was unusual; he had a slight feminine tone in his voice, but didn’t question it.

    I collected the rest of the documents that laid on the ground, gathering them in a pile and placing them back in the folder before handing it back to the man.

    “Thank you so much,” he replied. “Is there any way I could repay you?”

    “I don’t know,” I answered. “Um, I guess you could give me some directions? If not, that’s okay.”

    “Oh I can definitely help! I’m very good with directions. Where are you going?”

    “Let me get the address,” I advise him to hold on. “It’s somewhere in my purse.”

    After a minute of frantic searching in my bag, I hand the young man the address of my new home. Immediately, he gets a legal pad and a pen out and jots down the directions. When he was done, he tears the page off and hands it to me.

    “Thank you!” I thanked him.

    “It’s no problem!” he replies, smiling awkwardly. “You’re obviously not from here either, are you?”

    “What do you mean?” I inquired.

    He grabs the rest of his stuff and walks toward a bench to sit down there as I followed him.

    “Uhh,” he stutters again. “Have you lived here your whole life? I mean, were you born here?”

    “Oh,” I replied. “Nah. I wasn’t even born in this country. I’m from Mexico, but I’ve lived in many places.

    “Same hat! I moved here when I was four. I’ve lived in this part of the city forever now, but I’m not used to it still. Where have you been?”

    “Well, like I said, I was born in Mexico. I lived there for some time and then moved to Germany when the Crash happened.”

    “Germany? You mean, just as the Nazis came in?” he questions. “Why’d you even moved there in the first place?”

    “The Jewish community,” I recalled. “I’m Jewish too, but I’m non-practicing. My brother and I were lucky because we left just in time. My parents weren’t though. They both died in Auschwitz.”

    “I’m sorry about that.”

    “It’s alright. I try not to think about it.”

    After the brief backstory of my arrival in America, I told the young man about the cities I lived in all these years. He seemed excited listening to my tale, but also expressed remorse and shock while I told him about the Cuban Missile Crisis that occurred years back.

    “That was a good story!” he cheered. “It sounds like you could turn it into a movie for the world to see!”

    “I guess so,” I mumbled. “I thought my life has always been boring.”

    “It didn’t sound like it to me! I think everyone has a good life story. Sorry for acting all excited.”

    “It’s okay!” I reassured him. “How does it make you excited though?”

    He stops to catch a breath before speaking again.

    “Well, uh, I think I want to become a movie director someday. I’ve enjoyed writing since I was a small lad. I wanna be like Alfred Hitchcock or something along the lines, but I doubt myself sometimes.”

    “Well, if you believe and work hard enough toward it, you can achieve it!”

    “Yeah,” he nods. “That’s some good advice.”

    When I looked down at my watch, I realized I was running a little late and gathered my stuff again.

    “I’m sorry for leaving early if I am, but I’m running late!” I spat. “It was nice talking to you though!”

    We held out our hands to each other and shook them.

    “You too!” he smiles. “Say, what’s your name? I don’t think I ever got it.”

    “Oh, you’re right!” I remembered. “I’m Jules Malanzki! And you are . . . ?”

    “Scott Marnon, but everyone calls me Scottie! You can address me by either name.”

    “Ah, okay! Well, I’ll be going now. See ya later!”

    “Farewell!” he waves as I exit the airport and emerged back into the city.


	2. Scottie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: Mention of a bombing.

Throughout my life in which I have only existed for eighteen years, I have always believed that each and every person had their own life story. Whether they were a survivor of horrible events, a wealthy, nasty billionaire, a struggling American high school student, a member of Black Panther, or a citizen of communist China, each and every individual had their own story about the world. How they lived and how they died, how certain issues have shaped their political perspective, how they reacted to the deaths of adored cultural icons are all noteworthy details about their stories. And ever since I was a boy, I loved listening to people’s stories and had been interested in turning them into films, and that I hoped one day will achieve the attention of the world.

On the other hand, there are a few major struggles I am facing in my life that I am trying to overcome. The first is being my gender identity. I haven’t always been a boy, but since my days in preschool I’ve always felt masculine and would often get upset if I had to dress like a girl or behave like one. I didn’t like that, so I always had my mum trim my hair short. Mum was confused about my boyish manners, but she mostly didn’t mind. I was free to dress like a boy, act like a boy, all of that. However, it dreaded me whenever Mum referred to me by my birth name: Jacqueline. It was even worse when she or others would refer to me as Jackie. The name had a bad taste in my mouth. For some reason, it sounded like a super villain's name.

When I was about twelve years old, I decided that I didn’t want to be referred as a girl anymore. I was sick and tired of being called Jacqueline, Jackie, ma’am, miss, daughter, a "she," all of those. Whenever someone called me any of those terms, I didn’t felt like myself and felt that whoever was talking to was talking to a wall. After experiencing this eerie, uncomfortable feeling a couple of times, I decided to come up with a new name I could go by. One night in 1962 when my parents went to bed, I turned on the lamp that sat on my desk, sat down, and opened my journal. I created a small list that consisted of four names: David, Mason, Charles/Charlie, and Scott/Scottie.

It was obvious that Mason sounded like an ugly name for me and didn’t fit, so I crossed it out. David didn’t ring a bell either and I crossed that one out as well. It was a tie between Charles/Charlie and Scott/Scottie. To see which one was the best, I wrote sentences about myself using one of the names. Below the list, I wrote the following:

 

_     My name is Charles, but you can call me Charlie. I’m twelve years old and I live in the United States of America. I moved here when I was four. _

 

_     This is Scott. He also goes by Scottie. He likes watching movies and his favorite movie is “The Day the Earth Stood Still.” Audrey Hepburn is also his favorite actress. _

 

_     Charlie doesn’t care about politics that much, but he thinks President Kennedy is a nice guy and thinks the Civil Rights Movement is good. _

 

_     Scottie likes space and science. He’s also a big fan of science fiction books! _

 

    By the time I went back to bed, I decided that Scottie was the perfect fit for me. The following morning, I had a talk with my parents and came out as trans boy. Mum was confused and asked why I felt like this. The answer was simple; as far back as I could remember, I’ve always felt like a boy and never a girl. I’ve never wanted to be seen or treated as a girl, and after I choose my name I wanted to come out to my parents immediately. Mum still was baffled about my gender identity, but she still supported me and did her best to make me comfortable. Dad thought otherwise.

    To this day, I still feel that it was my fault for my parents’ quarrels. My dad didn’t accepted my lifestyle and often got into arguments with my mum about it. At the end of the day, Mum would reassure me that Dad arguing with her wasn’t my fault.

    “He’s always been this stubborn and narrow-minded,” she said to me when I was fourteen, “especially with social issues. But just remember, you won’t be stuck living here forever. College is gonna come before you know it, kiddo.”

    “I know,” I replied, “but he’ll still see me as a girl.”

    “Who cares? He won’t even be allowed in this house anymore.”

    This sentence puzzled me until Mum leaned her mouth close to my ear.

    “Your father and I are getting a divorce!” she whispered.

    The news calmed me with ease, but it didn’t hide the fact that if people found out I was a trans man, I would face harassment, beatings, or perhaps even being killed. I tried to shake off the thought and instead fixed my focus on my ultimate goal in life: to write and direct movies. 

    For the rest of those four years in high school, I worked my ass off to achieve high grades and an excellent GPA while I somehow still made a few friends. It was a small group of four people including me but we were all friendly and supportive of each other and had a common love for all things sci-fi. We were all especially hardcore fans of Star Trek since it started airing at the beginning of our junior year. One guy in our group who was a British immigrant like me, whose name was Eddie, talked about another sci-fi show he had watched back in Britain. I’m not able to recall the name of it, but he said it was about an alien or something that traveled across time and space in a phone box. It sounded interesting, but for some reason they didn’t show it on TV here.

    And just like that graduation day arrived in June of 1968. I was very elated, but extremely anxious because I felt I was still unsure about what I was gonna do with my life. I knew I had been accepted into Brooklyn College here in Brooklyn, New York, but I felt concerned about what the future was lying ahead of me. And by now, every member in our group decided that it would be better if we separated and walked in our own directions. It was a rough time, but then I suddenly recalled this one specific quote: Sometimes people in life are temporary, and that can be good or bad. 

    A week later I moved into my first apartment. The place was small and compact, and even a little lonely. Having no roommate did served as advantage; it gave me personal space and there would be days where I wanted a break from people. I didn’t consider myself an introvert, but I wasn’t an extrovert either. Maybe I was a mix of both, but obviously I didn’t know if there was a term for it or not. 

    Another good thing about starting college for me was that I got the chance to start all over. I no longer would go to school with people that have known me since middle school and wouldn't have to be referred to as the wrong name and such. For sure I would get to introduce my real self, Scott “Scottie” Marnon, and not have to worry about people second-guessing me. Of course, I still had to prevent people from uncovering my “real” identity. Regardless, I knew from here on out that life was going to treat me better. 

* * *

 

    It was the middle of June when I first met Jules and Maddie moved in with me. I didn’t expect to have a roommate but Maddie had nowhere else to go to live at for college. Besides, I found out later that she was attending the same college as me so it’s not like she’s a total stranger.

    Maddie Hiltz, like Jules, wasn’t a native from the city. She came from the sunshine state of Florida, which all I can think of when I hear the name is oranges and alligators. Moving on, her real name is Madison, but of course back where she lived people would often call her Maddie. She thought the nickname suited her, so it stuck to her. Like a lot of girls in this day and age, she sported the typical mod look. She had her auburn hair styled in a cute bob and had bangs, had pale skin and a sharp nose, and was about average weight.

    My alarm clock read 7 AM when I first got up one morning in the first week of July. I couldn’t figure out how to work the damn thing despite working very well with recent, new technology, so I left the alarm to go off at a very early time. Seven o’clock wasn’t too bad for me, but during this time I barely felt awake and was groaning while the buzzer continued to scream. 

    When I finally smashed my fist on the right button, I unplugged the alarm and got out of bed. I stayed in my pajamas since I didn’t feel like putting on clothes. There was really no one in the apartment to tell me otherwise. I was an adult now, about to enter college, and I decided to do whatever was good for me. After a session of stretching, I left my room and went to the kitchen to fix up some breakfast. Maddie wasn’t up yet so I asked myself if I should make something for her too, but then again I don’t think she would like mediocre scrambled eggs. Plus, she was one of those picky eaters so it was better off if I didn’t attempt to make breakfast for her. 

    “Why didn’t you make some eggs for me?” she jokes, rubbing her eyes. I couldn’t detect the sarcasm in her voice, which led me to think she was being serious.

    “You’re that picky eater!” I responded, pointing to her with the wooden spoon. “That’s why I left it to you!”

    “I’m just messing with you! Man, you can’t take a joke, can ya?”

    “I can, I just can’t tell when people are being sarcastic.”

    “Well that makes much more sense.”

    Instead of coming over to the kitchen and trying to make some eggs for herself, Maddie slams down on the couch. She turned the TV on, surfing the channels until she stopped at a channel that was airing earlier episodes of  _ The Andy Griffith Show _ . When I finished cooking my eggs, I scraped them off the pan onto my plate, and turned off the stone and placed the pan in the sink. I grabbed my plate and a fork and joined Maddie in the small living room to watch the sitcom with her. 

    “How long has this show been going on?” I asked while chewing on some eggs.

    “Uh, I’m pretty sure eight years,” Maddie guessed. “They actually stopped making new episodes.”

    “Ohh.”

    “Yeah, it’s kinda sad. This show’s been my favorite since I was a kid.”

    I paused for a second, swallowing before I spoke again.

    “I’ve only watched a few episodes,” I confessed. “My mom liked it, but it never really grew on me.”

    “Really?” she asked in bewilderment.  


    “I’m not kidding honestly. I’m a massive Star Trek fan though.”

    “Oh I see. You’re one of those nerds aren’t ya?”

    “Shut up!” I joked. “I really, really love sci-fi.”

    “It’s okay, my dad loves Star Trek too. My family is kinda full of geeks.”

    We stopped talking for a bit, watching TV as I finished my breakfast. After finishing, I left the plate and fork in the sink and sat back on the couch.

    “So,” I propped up my feet on the coffee table, “what even brought you here all the way to New York? You never really told me anything so far.”

    “Oh that?” Maddie remembered. “Well, I’m more of a city type of gal. And I wanted to get out of the South. That place sucks.”

    “What’s so bad about that?” I asked.

    “Have you never been to the South?!”

    “Nah, I’ve lived here in the city my whole life. What’s wrong with the South?”

    “Well,” Maddie paused, “it’s not so bad I guess. It’s beautiful down there, but the people are bigoted idiots. I still lived in a city, but there were still some of them there.”

    “Ohh, that makes sense. Yeah, I get you.”

    The conversation progressed on what we wanted to do once we were out of college. Maddie had said she still hadn’t decided on her major yet, but she has thought about acting, either for broadway or going to Hollywood. At the same time, she aimed to be a politician or activist. It kinda surprised me a bit, since Maddie was a little shy. Well, really shy more likely; she seemed to be anxious almost every day over the smallest things or nothing at all. Still, I thought it was cool that she wanted to be involved in politics.

    I told Maddie about how much I loved films since I was a kid, and how I hoped to be a director some day. She agreed with me that it would be a suitable career for me, but then she asked about what type of movies I would direct in the future. As of now, I haven’t made up my mind on what I wanted to do. I did love the whole sci-fi genre, but I wasn’t confident enough to film something as great as  _ 2001: A Space Odyssey _ . People's life stories are what drew my attention; probably one day I could direct a movie about someone close to me. Other than that, I told Maddie I had no plans on what genre of films I wanted to direct after college. She assured me that it was fine, that it took awhile to seek inspiration and eventually achieve success and fame. Fame wasn’t one of my main priorities or goals, but I did strive to be successful.

* * *

 

    We started our classes in late August with English composition being the only course we shared together. I didn’t mind separation that much, but I did loathed working with other people whenever we were assigned a group project. These types of assignments were intended to bring students together and bring them courage to share ideas and collaborate. However by now it’s much well known that you’ll have a team member or two that’ll just sit there, write their name on the paper, and do absolutely nothing. Our small circle of hard workers didn’t mind working together with each other, but we found it stupid that the lazy part of the team wasn’t getting in trouble for it. Of course back in the day no one didn’t do a thing about it, but that’s because they couldn’t think of a way how to. Procrastinators infuriated me. I know I’m very disorganized when it comes to my work environment, but at least I don’t half-ass anything at the last minute.

    Back to the main topic, college seemed to be working out so far. It was a little bit difficult for me to handle it at some times; my depression would act up every now and then but I got through my episodes. Maddie seemed a bit depressed too at times, but her episodes seemed shorter. She would have some mood swings sometimes but they were a mild case. I didn’t know what was going with her but I didn’t bother to ask about it. I thought it would be rude of me to ask so I didn’t question her about it. 

    Time flew by and it was October now. We had both just completed our first midterms, signaling that we finished the first half of the fall semester. I honestly was very anxious that I wouldn’t pass my classes, but after I received my grades for the quarter I gave out a sigh of relief. Maddie was given similar results, which eased her anxiety as well. Both of us were proud of our accomplishments, so to celebrate we stopped by Totonno’s on the 19th. The pizzeria was one of my parents and I’s favorite restaurants, meanwhile Maddie had never been there before. I thought that this would be the perfect time to take her there, to show her what real Italian cuisine was like. She recalled having been to some Italian restaurants before, but they were pretty cheap and they weren’t really authentic. Again, I thought this was a good time to make up for it.

    “Here it is,” I smiled. “I promise you’re gonna love it!”

    “‘Course I will,” she remarked. “I love all kinds of food, even though I’m very picky.”

    “Well I don’t think you’ll be picky with Totonno’s. I mean, my parents and I love it.”

    She nodded in response as we walked into the pizzeria, standing inside for a bit until a waitress guides us to our table for the day. Menus were handed to us but I requested that we would need a couple of minutes to order. The waitress says “alright” before heading off to meet with another customer. We grabbed our menus and start scanning through to see what we would like.

    “You see somethin’ yet?” I asked her.

    The only response I was give was when I saw Maddie squinting her eyes, reading the menu thoroughly while she bit her lower lip. Either it was hard for her to choose a meal or she couldn’t find something she like, I couldn’t tell what her expression was suppose to represent. Finally, she put the menu down and looked up to me.

    “I don’t know,” she sighed. “I mean, I know what to order but there’s one thing on my mind.”

    “What, is there a topping you don’t like?” I teased.

    “Shut up, no. I like pizza but I just can’t stand it when it comes out very greasy. Foods that are oily gross me out.”

    “Oh, why didn’t you mention that earlier?”

    “I don’t know, I just felt that it’s not worth mentioning. I hate talking about my eating habits too.”

    “Sorry about that. If it makes you feel better the pizza here isn’t greasy at all, or at least to me it is.”

    “Are you lying?” she raises a brow.

    “No, no!” I shake my head and rapidly wave my hands. “I’m being honest. It’s like very fresh. Trust me, it’s good. It’s not like junky like Little Caesar’s or whatever.”

    “Okay, good. I actually hate Little Caesar’s pizza too.”

    “Damn, same hat!” I laughed.

    When the waitress came back to take our order, we both decided to share a Margarita pizza to snack on. The waitress asked if that was all we wanted besides waters; we both nodded and she took up our menus and we began waiting patiently for our food. Another customer entered the restaurant as she walked away while another waitress assisted the customer. It took awhile to recognize who the customer was, until they turned around, walked, and sat down at the table next to us. It was Jules, the lady I met at the airport last summer. I forgot that she lived in Brooklyn, but then it came back to me that she mentioned on her way out of the airport that she had to hurry to her new home. I forgot her address after that day but now remembered that she had been living here for a few months now.

    “Hey!” I greeted her. “How are you?”

    “Who are you again?” she turned to me. “I remember names but not faces.”

    “Scottie Marnon! Remember that day in th–”

    “Oh yeah, that’s right! Yeah, yeah, you’re the young man that gave me directions to my new home.”

    “Yeah, that was me! I’m glad to see you!”

    Maddie and I had our first actual conversation with Jules that day. Since it had been a few months since I last saw her, I asked how she was doing and how she was adjusting to her new home. Jules had already adapted to the environment and mentioned that she taught at James Madison High School, which was where I graduated from recently. She talked about how much she like teaching at the school already and I couldn’t help but agree. I only had those few friends in high school and wasn’t very social due to bullying but I loved the classes. Most of my favorite teachers were from that school too, so it was very clear that that school was probably a favorite among many people. 

    I had also found out that Jules actually lived next door to us. When I asked what her address was again, she stated that she lived right next to us. Of course she didn’t outwardly said it, but when she gave us the address it immediately registered into my mind that we were neighbors. Maddie and I found it weird that Jules was our neighbor but somehow didn’t notice it months before. Maybe it was because we left our apartments at different times of the day. I was still confused though on how we didn’t see each other for months though.

    “Well I’m glad to meet you again, Scottie,” she remarked, then shifting her attention to Maddie. “And what about you, dear? I haven’t seen you before. Are you his girlfriend?”

    The both of us give off bewildered looks and blush in embarrassment.

    “No!” we exclaimed in unison. 

    “Geez, there is no way I would date this nerd!” Maddie stated. 

    “Okay, okay!” Jules chuckled. “I was only joking with you. I guess I gotta be less sarcastic with you.”

    “Probably,” Maddie remarked. “But yeah, I’m just a friend of his. We met last summer.”

    “So around the same time I met Scottie?”

    “Yeah.”

    The three of us kept talking as the waitresses delivered the food to our tables. During that conversation I learned something new about Jules and Maddie, mostly it having to do with music. Jules was one of those people that would listen to anything, which obviously surprised me for her age. I thought she would be the kind of person to listen to classical music on the radio or perhaps old timey music from when she was younger. She said she would still listen to those kinds of tunes every now and then, but was mainly into newer music or whatever came out. Still, she listened to just about everything. When I asked her what her favorite musicians where, she listed that they were Joan Baez, Bob Dylan, and Jimi Hendrix. Surprisingly, I knew she’d be the type of person to like them, especially Baez.

    Maddie had a similar taste to almost every young woman in America. Since they first started singing, she had been a big Beatles fan. Of course that was normal for anyone her age; almost every girl I knew in school was in love with the Beatles. Maddie wasn’t the type of girl to piss herself over them though, but she had a huge crush on Paul McCartney. Aside from the Beatles nonsense, she also liked the Beach Boys and one of the newer bands, the Doors. She admired Brian Wilson and Jim Morrison. However, I could not understand what was so appealing about Morrison. I liked the songs from the band but I personally didn’t like the lead singer so much. I though he was kind of overrated. Regardless, I didn’t bash on him much since I didn’t want Maddie to feel bad. If I could talk about how much I loved Star Trek, then she had the right to talk about how much she loved Jim Morrison.

    The three of us started to head back to our apartments once we finished eating. When we got back, we did nothing for the rest of the day. Maddie and I had just got done with finals so it was the best option that we took the time to relax. All we did that night was watch reruns of  _ The Andy Griffith Show _ , in which I started to finally like it. Eventually, Maddie would grow tired and decided that it was time for her to go to bed. She said her goodnights to me before going to her room to sleep. A little while after she went to bed, I heard someone knocking at the front door. I turned down the TV and got up and walked to the door, looking through the peephole to see that it was Jules again. She appeared to looked distressed, looking down at the ground, and was holding an envelope that looked torn open. I opened the door.

    “Hey,” I greeted her once again, “what’s going on? You seemed bummed out.” 

    She then looked up to me.

    “Something happened and I’m confused,” she whispered to me. “Well, not confused. I’m extremely worried. Can I come inside?”

    “Yeah yeah, sure. Come on in.”

    I walked back to the living room and turned off the TV while Jules came in and closed the door behind her, making sure it was closed properly. We both sat down on the couch as she placed the envelope on the coffee table. She sighed, resting her head on one of hands before lying back into the couch.

    “Well . . .” she mumbled, “before we can talk about the letter, can I talk to you about something else?”

    I nodded in response.

    “Okay uh, I feel like this is gonna sound ridiculous but can you not refer to me as ‘she’ when talking about me?”

    “Of course. How would I find that dumb?”

    Surprised by my response, Jules asked me why I didn’t.

    “Um, well . . . I’m transgender,” I said awkwardly.

    “What does that mean?” Jules asked.

    It was then that I revealed to Jules about the history of my identity and what it meant. I felt embarrassed telling her that I hadn’t always been “Scottie,” but yet I had felt better getting it off my chest. For a long time I was anxious about coming out to Jules whenever the time came. However, I felt better now knowing that they were very accepting and were possibly transgender themself.

    “I know I don’t feel like a man,” Jules stated, “but I don’t feel like a woman either. I’m okay with how I look but I feel so uncomfortable not knowing what I am.”

    “I know how it feels,” I reassured them. “You’ll find out someday though. I promise. It won’t be like this forever. Now, what was it again that you wanted to be referred as when I talk about you?”

    “They.”

    “Okay, good.”

    Once the discussion was over, we moved on to the next concern Jules had that was still inside the envelope. Already it was a concerning matter to as I saw that it had no return address on it. Jules’ address was handwritten on the outside of the envelope, but their name wasn’t listed. It probably was meant to be delivered to the person who previously lived in their apartment. 

    “When did you got this?” I held the envelope, pulling the letter from it.

    “Today,” Jules replied.

    I unfolded the letter, glancing over it before reading it and saw that the handwriting was a little messy. I was still able to make out what it said, so I started reading. 

 

_     Sep. 24, 1968 _

 

_     Samuel – _

 

_     They are discussing about holding a major music festival. Not a lousy one, I’m talking about one that’s probably gonna make headlines! And maybe cause traffic jams! I’m not saying this for sure, but they’re talking about inviting big musical acts to the fest to perform. They might take Dylan, or the Who, or maybe Hendrix, who knows! _

_     My point is this: if a massive amount of people are gonna show up, we show up too. This is not to have fun though you slacker, we’re going to cause some damn havoc for sure. I mean, we got away with our last two attacks back in ‘64 and ‘67, so why not blow up this music festival into pieces? I think it would be a great idea! The world and the FBI might get on our asses for it but we love it when we give the world a piece of our minds. I also love being seen as a bigger threat than Commies. _

_     For safety reasons, I’m not gonna write your name on this envelope nor am I gonna put a return address on it. You and I will not risk going to prison just yet. Hopefully you’re still living at this apartment too by the time this delivers. God knows what the hell would happen if the wrong person receives this letter. Maybe they might not even read it but who knows! So don’t move out yet until this letter is in your hands. It’s important to know that you have received this information.  _

_     In other news, I have a new girlfriend! I know you don’t care about this homosexual nonsense but who else am I gonna talk about my girlfriend too? Her name’s Margaret, but I like to call her Mar for short. She’s from England and she loves tennis too, and biking and she’s good at dancing. She has the nicest green eyes I’ve ever seen and her hair is soft, short, and brown. She kinda looks like Twiggy, but not very skinny. I hope that we can be together for a long time, despite me being a threat to the United States.  
_

_     Anyway, you know what to do when you receive this letter. _

 

_     – Lev de Campo _

 

    “What the hell?!” I stuttered. “A bombing? Where? Oh, Jesus Christ.”

    “I know!” Jules stated. “That’s what I’m saying! I’ve never even heard of this person until now. And now I’m worried outta my mind!”

    “Well, I’ve heard about Lev. I remember seeing her on the news last year. She was responsible for a bombing at UCLA. Killed six people, two of them students. Doesn’t sound deadly but it’s scary because she got away with it and she’s difficult to track down. She always moves, changes names, all that stuff to make sure the FBI doesn’t catch her.”

    “That’s . . . God, that’s so scary.”

    “It damn sure is. I fear her.”

    Nothing else was said about Lev’s letter that night. After the discussion had died down and Jules calmed down, they went back to their apartment. Meanwhile, I was still lying down on the couch wide awake. For awhile I couldn’t sleep. All I did was think about what I could do to prevent Lev from killing more innocent people. For sure I knew that reporting it to the police wasn't going to work. They probably would've picked up my tip but wouldn't go after her since she was so hard track down. I knew I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing either.  _ What am I gonna do? What the hell am I gonna do?  _ Eventually I fell asleep, but the words from Lev’s letter stayed intact in my mind that night and onward.


	3. Jules

I found it extremely difficult for me to sleep that mid-October night after reading Lev de Campo’s letter. I had no idea when or where the bombing was going to happen, which worsened my anxiety. This was the first time since the Cuban Missile Crisis that I have felt this anxious. For sure I wasn’t having a panic or anxiety attack like I did years back, but I felt more tense upon learning about Lev’s criminal history and status. She could be here in New York, or is living somewhere in the English countryside. I was still paranoid no matter where I assumed her presence would be. I was more worried about when the future bombing will take place and where. All I knew about it was at it was going to cause terror at a music festival. Not only might she kill some musicians, but innocent concert goers too.  


Two o’clock in the morning was when I finally fell asleep. I slept in a bit that night and woke up at noon, still feeling exhausted. I slept for ten hours but even that amount of sleep wasn’t enough for me, a person who was almost fifty. Regardless of how much sleep I had got, I got out of my bed and got dressed for the day. I wasn’t going out for the day but if I had to do something important, it was grading the exams that I had given to my students Friday. They had just finished the first quarter of the school year so they tested on every they had learned since they came back to school in August. I loved doing my job but I would rather be teaching than grading a bunch of papers during the weekend. It was a responsibility of mine but sometimes I wished that I had someone else do this chore for me. That way I would have more time to organize my plans for class.  


When I finished making a cup of coffee for myself, I resumed grading whatever paper I had left on on Saturday. I started grading papers as soon as I got home that Friday afternoon, but only did so for three hours before I took a break for the rest of the day. I worked on them again the next day, until I went to the pizzeria with Scottie and Maddie, working on some more when I returned until the mail was delivered to me that late evening. It was then that I had tore the envelope open and read Lev’s eerie letter and showed it to Scottie. For the rest of that night I was unable to focus on work, leading me to go to bed. I only had a couple of papers left to grade, but I could already tell that I was getting lazy with the grading when I found myself marking a right answer incorrect. Luckily I corrected myself and scribbled out the X, writing “OK” next to the student's answer. 

    At 1:20 P.M., I finished grading tests and left my apartment to go out and pick up a snack for myself. One of my favorite cafes was of walking distance from my apartment, so I decided to walk over there and grab something. Before heading out, I grabbed the letter and stuffed it in the pocket of my jacket. It made me feel anxious to leave it sitting in my apartment, so I thought that it was better to bring it along with me. With that done, I left my apartment for the time being and began walking to the cafe. I arrived at the place within five minutes; before I could think about what I wanted, I noticed that a line had formed. The place wasn’t usually that busy, but since it was a Sunday, most of the people in line just came from church. Most of them were older people, some around my age or a couple years my senior, who had come here to get a cup of coffee or something to munch on. I didn’t mind waiting in line, but I loathed waiting with a bunch of people who took five minutes to decide what they wanted when they got to the front. When it was finally my turn to order, I asked for the usual: Turkish coffee and a raspberry-filled donut. 

Once I received my drink and my snack, I took a seat at one of the tables that stood near the windows. Time passed on slowly as I stared out the window looking at the scenery, sipping on my coffee minute by minute. I felt relaxed for the first time that day. Even though it was kind of loud in the cafe, the sounds still lingered a relaxing tone. In one corner of the cafe, I heard a young couple talking about college. Somewhere else in the room I heard an employee yell “Saintsberry!” I didn’t understand what that meant, but I assumed it meant a customer’s food was ready. In another part of the cafe, I could hear the news playing from one of the miniature TVs that sat on the counter. All that I heard from the news program was a discussion about Vietnam, Jackie Kennedy getting remarried, and highlights from the Olympics in Mexico City.

When I drew my attention away from the news, a man sat down in the chair opposite of me at my table. Either he wasn’t a morning person or had a bad night of sleeping, he appeared grouchy and was slouching. He held a newspaper in one hand and a mug of black coffee in the other, taking a sip before he reclined in the chair and started reading the front page. I didn’t catch a glimpse of him that much but I could tell that he was about my age, probably older than me judging by the wrinkles on his face. The elder man also had a crooked nose and possessed curly hair that looked dark as dirt. And judging by his body structure, he appeared to be a man of heavy weight. 

Pretending he wasn’t sitting there, I took a bite out of my donut and pulled out the letter from my pocket. I read it over again carefully, to find certain cues in Lev’s message. While I was in the middle of reading the last paragraph, the man laid his newspaper down on the table and tried to observe the letter closely. 

“Letter from a friend?” he asked, revealing his raspy Scottish accent.

“Yeah,” I nodded, “got it in the mail last night. It’s kinda weird to read though so I’m just looking over it again.”

“I see, but is your name actually Samuel?”

“Why would you ask that?”

The Scot’s question baffled me until I noticed that the letter was flapping a bit, allowing him to see the top portion of the message. Suddenly he snatched the letter out of my hand without saying anything to me, reading Lev’s message. It was then I had realized that I had made a very grave mistake bringing the letter here.

When he tossed the letter onto the table, his hand reached into his pocket and produced a pistol in his hand. He pointed the weapon at me, demanding that I got out of my seat and told him when I actually received the letter. I pleaded that I was telling him the truth and soon enough the customers in the cafe started to panic and the employees ran back into the kitchen. The man shot one of the windows, shattering the glass as the bullets hit. 

“Shut the hell up, all of ye!” he yelled. “Unless yin o' yi'll waant tae git shot, be quiet!”

A couple of customers ignored his instructions and went out of their way to escape the cafe while yelling to the outsiders to call for the police. The man attempted to shoot one of the escapees, but I quickly grabbed his arm and aimed it away from the crowd. He ended up shooting the glass where the food stood behind in display. Already there was no more ammo in his pistol and he dropped it, yanking his arm out of my grasp and violently elbowed me in the chest. I fell and crashed onto floor, and before I could get up and tackle him he quickly reached a small, round object out of his pocket and threw it hard onto the ground. The object exploded and released a foggy cloud of smoke. For a couple of seconds I couldn’t detect nothing around but screaming and the sound of people accidentally tripping on the chairs. Once the fog cleared up, I noticed that the police had arrived but the man had ran away. There was barely a trace of him left, minus the pistol he had left behind. Another item had vanished too; when I looked back at my table, the letter was gone. It didn’t matter that much to me but it still made me felt anxious that he stole it.

After the chaos had died down a bit, one of the policemen interviewed me and asked me questions about the subject. 

“When did he walk into the cafe?” he inquired once he pulled out a small notepad.

“Well,” I mumbled at first, “I don’t know. I know that he sat at the same table as me. He had that pistol on him and took a letter I had received in the mail.”

“Can you describe this man?”

I nodded.

“I think he was from Scotland or something. His dialect and accent sounded Scottish to me. I think he was in his fifties. Had a crooked nose, dark curly hair.”

“That’s it?”

“Mhm.”

“Thank you then. We’ll discuss this matter with other witnesses, but please stay close to the scene until further instruction is given.”

It was only a matter of time until Scottie and Maddie had arrived at the cafe to see if I was alright. I told them that I was doing okay, minus the fact that the man had hit me in the chest earlier. Both of them gave a sigh of relief, but Maddie still looked uneasy. She couldn’t believe that I was held at gunpoint, to where me being killed was a possibility. Fortunately no one at died at the crime scene as far as I knew. However, I still found it shocking that I was robbed.  _ Where will it go to now? Who will be reading it? Was that man who I think it was? _

Investigation at the crime scene was over when one of the officers approached me. He greeted Scottie and Maddie before he reported the conclusion.

“So who was that guy, officer?” Scottie asked eagerly.

“Well, from the evidence we collected from the eye witnesses, it was Samuel Saintsberry,” he concluded.

“No,” I shook my head, “you don’t mean . . .”

“Yup, he’s Lev de Campo’s personal assistant. He doesn’t get much a public eye though. Thinks he’s just as evil as her but he’s only a coward. Always runs off.”

“So why don’t you catch him?”

The officer shrugs his shoulders.

“I dunno. I don’t feel like it’s my business. Besides, you would never be able to catch that bastard.”

The answer didn’t satisfy me at all, but at the end of the day I thought it was better than receiving no answer. Still, it enraged me that the police force would do nothing about Samuel, or maybe that particular team of officers didn’t seem to care. Either way, it was a mess and I found it despicable of them to say such a thing to the people. 

I returned to my apartment after we left the cafe that day. It was only 3:30 P.M. when I got back, but already I was ready to go to bed for the day, go to work, and forget about everything that had happened to me over the weekend. These incidents that I had witnessed were odd and I hoped to God that I would never see such things ever again. My life should’ve been normal as possibly all these years, but instead I was separated from my parents at a young age, nearly killed myself, got fired from a job because of my mental health, and just recently I was held at gunpoint and robbed of. I was not yet fifty years old; crazy things like this should’ve ended over twenty years ago but somehow a mysterious force has transformed my life into some strange television drama. As I went to bed that evening, I had concluded that I had no idea what was coming to me. I didn’t knew what I wanted to do anymore. Life seemed dull yet weird. I guess that was how you saw it when you were only forty-nine years old.

* * *

 

Working at school the next day, I was constantly asked by many of my students about the cafe incident. Most of them tried to ask how I felt when I found out who Samuel Saintsberry was. I wasn’t in the best mood to answer it, in fact I didn’t want to speak a word about it. All it did was make me feel distressed, forcing me to imagine myself in that situation again and overthinking about what could have happened instead. He could’ve shot me right there, murder me in cold blood if he were just as brave as his boss. In another scenario, he could've killed a fleeing customer or two. We were all extremely lucky that I had wasted all his ammo, despite the fact that he managed to hit me dead in the chest and got away. All that mattered though was that I was the heroine in that moment, saving lives, and was able to help the police to identify who Samuel was exactly. 

Maddie was hanging out near my apartment when I returned to my place after work had ended that day. 

“How’s your day been?” I asked her as I unlocked my apartment door.

“Oh, definitely better than yesterday,” she remarked. “I’m still kinda anxious but I’m doing fine.”

“Anxious about what?”

“I don’t know. I don’t wanna think about it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re fine. Is it okay if I can hang out with you for a bit? I need to distract myself.”

“Of course.”

When I unlocked the door, I opened it and allowed Maddie to enter my apartment. We talked about our day, what happened, what we were looking forward to for the rest of the week, the usual. During our discussions, Maddie would constantly twirl strands of her hair to calm down. It seemed to work, but then she would pull out a hair or two viciously every couple of minutes or so. She informed me that she had developed the habit when she was in middle school and has done it since then. It kinda surprised me; she didn’t look like she lost that much hair to it. However, I asked her about how she took care of her hair all these years.

“My hair used to be much longer, like it passed my shoulders,” Maddie recalled. “It was straight too! But then one day my mom came into my room, threw down some of her hair magazines onto my bed, and said ‘Maddie, it’s time.’ Next thing you know, I got my haircut a day before my first day of high school. All my hair was chopped off and I got a pixie cut!”

“Awh,” I chuckled, “I used to have one earlier in the decade. I loved it, but I grew mine out because I missed my long hair.”

“I hated mine, I looked like a real bozo! I still think I look ugly even with this bob.”

“I don’t think so! I think you look cute!”

“Thanks I guess.”

Someone knocked on the front door when the conversation was finished. I got up from the couch to open it, which revealed Scottie who was dressed up in a black-and-yellow sweater and wore white slacks. Immediately, Maddie came running toward him and hugged him tightly, thanking God that he was back.

“Jesus, please let go!” he raised his voice. “Gee, you’re acting as if I was never coming back.”

Maddie let go of him, looking disgusted.

“Well, you never told me where you were going!” she reasoned. “Listen, I get really nervous when I don’t know where you are. I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”

“Ugh . . . I’m sorry. I was at a job interview. My mom called me a few days ago and told me she couldn’t pay my rent anymore. I was in a hurry this morning getting out of class because I thought I was gonna be late. I forgot to tell you, I’m so sorry Maddie.”

“It’s fine. Thanks for understanding.”

“Scottie,” I joined in the conversation, “sorry for interrupting, but where are you working at?”

“Hopefully at the grocery store nearby. I’m working as a cashier but the pay is good,” Scottie explained. “I should get a call back within a few days.”

“Well that’s good. It’s a full-time job, right?”

    "I don't know yet . I just hope it doesn't get in the way with my classes.”

Scottie and Maddie both went back to their apartment shortly after visiting me. I relaxed for the rest of the day since I had no papers to grade or anything; I was at my apartment for the rest of the night watching reruns of  _ I Love Lucy _ again and skimming through articles in the newspaper. Lev and Samuel weren’t on my mind much for once either. It was a relief for me but I still felt a pinch of anxiety linger inside me, thinking about when they could strike again. Will it be at the music festival? At a completely random shop or cafe again? In the streets? At my own home? These were all questions I knew I couldn’t answer right away. I would have to wait for the future to unfold on its own, spotting out anything peculiar to see if it would have any connection to Lev or Samuel. After what happened yesterday at the cafe, I knew this search and investigation was going to go on for awhile. 


	4. Scottie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: Mention of disordered eating.

    Another two months passed by but it felt that time itself was dragging. Those days were filled with nothing but college, work, and occasionally, going out to have fun. The holiday season was much over now, with the exception of New Year's’ coming up. I have been alone these past few weeks since Maddie left Brooklyn to visit her family in Florida for the winter break. Part of me wished that I had gone with her, only to escape the freezing, unbearable winter of the north. Florida probably wasn't that much warmer than Brooklyn, but I would have imagined that it would be far more comfortable to live there. Maybe one day I could move there, but again, I would reconsider if the high temperatures would be too much for me to bear.

    The only people I saw over the break were close acquaintances, coworkers whenever I went to work, my mother when I visited her for Christmas, and Jules. Other than seeing people and working, I haven’t done much. I stayed in my apartment, binge-watching reruns of The Andy Griffith Show and watching my favorite _Star Trek_ episodes. My days were also spent listening to the new vinyl records that I had received as Christmas gifts from Maddie. My favorite was the new Beatles album that had came out just a month earlier, which was simply titled _The Beatles_ . Another album that I was given that I enjoyed was _Head_ from the Monkees, and last there was _Horizontal_. It was a bit different for my taste, but I still thought it had some groovy tunes. The album was from a group that I had never heard before. What were they call again? Bee Gees? I think that was the right name.

    It was December 30th now, a Monday, two days closer to the last year of the 1960s. This was when I began to reflect back on what I had been through in my life this very decade so far, or what happened in general. JFK was elected, I came out to my parents, chose my name, thought it was the end of times when the Cuban Missile Crisis occurred, cried at the news of JFK’s assassination, entered high school, saw the rise of the Beatles, checked the news for reports on the Civil Rights Movements, witness the escalation of the conflict in Vietnam and dodged the draft, started watching Star Trek, graduated high school, mourn the deaths of MLK and Bobby Kennedy, met Maddie and Jules, and now in the present day, I’m through with my first semester of college. It was hard to believe that time had gone by that quick; I swore that yesterday that I had just came out to my parents. Am I really eighteen? Am I actually running after Lev de Campo, one of the world’s most notorious super villains? I sometimes wish I could go back to the past, to where there wasn’t so much to worry about. Soon, I will be out in the real world and be ready to direct or help write movies. Soon, I’ll be able to go on hormone therapy once the new decade rolls in. And soon enough, I’m going to make an impact in the world. All of these events seem exciting, but some days I also doubt any great will come to me. Sometimes I feel that my future is bleak, that I’ll go nowhere in life. I feel that I’m not suppose to do anything, or that I will die before I turn twenty-five. Will this be my reality? Or am I overthinking?

    As soon as I finished watching another episode of _The Andy Griffith Show_ , I went to my room and got dressed in my warmer clothes. I was only going out today to eat at Totonno’s since there wasn’t anything to eat in my apartment at the moment. I wasn’t getting another paycheck for a few days; I had to spare much of my food as I could. The food shortage made me feel uneasy, not physically sick but I was afraid of starving myself. Losing weight was a fear of mine, and it was definitely something I didn’t want to die from. I wasn’t dangerously skinny or underweight; purposely starving myself made me anxious and sick to the core. Maddie does it sometimes and I don’t know how she doesn’t feel ill or anything. She hasn’t lost that much weight within these past few months, but her disordered eating habits have caused great concern for me. However, I haven’t had a talk with her about this problem. I was afraid to upset her, or to argue with her. I didn’t want to force her to open up either, I thought that allowing her to open up whenever she wanted to would help. But again, she never has.

    I began my short journey to Totonno’s after locking my apartment door. I suddenly got worried after walking for five minutes, fearing that the door lock would freeze up while I was gone, locking me out of the apartment. I got over it quickly, remembering that it hasn’t happened to me once this winter. I continued walking, arriving at the restaurant within minutes. When I walked closer to the windows, I could see Jules sitting at one of the tables. They probably just got there too, since they started looking at the menu. When I got inside I sat at the same table, sitting across from them.

    “Hey, how are ya?” I greeted them.

    Jules looked away from the menu and fixed their eyes on me.

    “Oh, hi!” they waved back. “I’m . . . doing well surprisingly. I felt sorta depressed earlier this week, but I’m fine now.”

    “That’s good to hear. I barely have anything to eat at the apartment so that’s why I’m here.”

    “Oh, um, that’s shitty. When do you get paid?”

    “Uh, in a few days. I might change jobs soon though. Even with the full time schedule, I’m not doing as good before my mom stopped paying rent.”

    “Well hopefully there’s something else for you to do. And does Maddie pay rent too or is it just you?”

    I took a menu from the little stand thing at the table before continuing the conversation.

    “Just me,” I resumed. “Maddie wants to get a job, but I’m not sure if she can. I mean, she’s deathly afraid of making phone calls. She’s not a people person, Jules. Not that she hates them, but she just gets so, so anxious, way more anxious than I do. She’s not that anxious all the time, but I don’t know if she can handle a job.”

    “Then perhaps she could find a job where she doesn’t have to talk to people much?” Jules suggested. “Other than that, I’m not sure what to do, Scottie. I’m a very anxious person myself but I still like doing my job. And I’m just better at talking to younger people than speaking in front of my co-workers. I wish I knew Maddie better.”

    “She wishes the same. She likes talking to you but she’s afraid that you hate her.”

    Jules shook their head, looking puzzled.

    “How could I hate Maddie?” they said. “She’s a nice girl, and she’s so passionate about what she likes. She’s funny too, I like having her around. Why don’t I see her around more? I understand she’s busy with college but what else does she do?”

    “Nothing much really,” I sighed. “She doesn’t go out much and she doesn’t really like herself that much. She was bullied in elementary school and still picked on in high school, so she hates herself. She thinks a lot of people still hate her, even strangers. Even if you told her she’s a good person, she would kinda doubt it. But it’s not her fault, it’s her thoughts telling her that.”

    “I understand. I can be like that too when I’m not feeling well. I really do think she’s a great person though.”

    “Thanks. I’m sure she would appreciate it.”

    Jules and I then talked about what we did over the winter break so far while we waited for our food. Jules visited their brother Francisco and his family in Chicago for a few days. His wife’s name is Clarisa and their daughter’s name is Maria. Jules told me that she was sixteen and a junior in high school, who plans on becoming a homicide detective. Jules said that Maria also liked Star Trek and science fiction novels as well.

    “She seems like your type of girl, Scottie,” Jules commented.

    “Kinda, but . . .” I trailed off, sighing and glaring at my coffee mug.

    “But what?” they lowered their voice down to a whisper. “Are you gay?”

    “Not exactly,” I whispered back to them. “I mean, I’m attracted to anyone. And I kinda have a crush already, too.”

    “On who?”

    I looked away from Jules and stared out the window, slightly blushing from sheer embarrassment. _Why did I have to say that?_ I thought. _Now I can’t avoid Jules’ question unless I answer it. I guess I’ll die_.

    Before I could say anything else, the waitress arrived at our table with our plates and we both thanked her. As I removed the grease from the pizza with the napkins, Jules picked up where we left off in the conversation.

    “Sooo,” they broke the silence, “who do ya like?”

    “Uhhh,” I mumbled. “I’ll tell but under one condition only: you can’t tell anyone, ever! Please, please promise me this.”

    “I won’t tell, I won’t. I’m not a snitch so you don’t have to worry.”

    “Okay, uh – fuck, I can’t. I’m so nervous, I think I'm sweating, oh God.”

    “It’s okay, take your time. You’ll feel much better when it’s off your chest, I promise.”

    “Ugh!” I growled, resting my head on my hand. “Okay, it seems like I’m mad but I’m not. I just feel embarrassed to say it.”

    “I understand,” Jules acknowledged. “I guess you can talk about it another time if that’s –”

    “I kinda have a crush on Maddie,” I blurted out.

    I groaned, running my hand through my hand thoroughly. Part of me was glad that I had finally got that off my chest, but I was still feeling embarrassed by how I was handling it. Hell, I probably looked like a goof to Jules while I was confessing. However, I was still happy that I was able to express my feelings to someone and not feel so bad about it.

    Jules reached their hand out to me, offering me a handshake. I accepted it and we shook hands as I wiped a small tear away from my eye.

    “I’m proud of you, Scottie,” Jules smiled. “It takes guts to confess that you have a crush on someone, not that I get any but a lot of people I knew before said it’s hard. But it feels better now that you’ve got that off your chest, does it?”

    “Yeah . . . yeah, it does,” I smile and nodded. “I don’t know why I was so nervous. That was actually kind of easy, but I guess I just made it into a big deal.”

    “It’s okay, I’m like that too. Well, we’re both anxious people so I guess it’s something we can relate to.”

    “Definitely.”

    We continued the conversation as we ate our pizza, with me mostly talking about the reasons why I liked Maddie so much. For one thing, Jules was very right about her being nice. Maddie was in fact one of the nicest people I’ve ever met in my life. She’s so understanding and so accepting, and I will always remember that when I came out to her last month. She was a bit confused at first, but after I briefly explained a few things to her, she understood them and accepted me. Her response made me trust her even more, and eventually, I would develop feelings for her. I don’t know when I’ll confess to her, but I deeply care about her. Even when she has her bad days, she still has so much potential and she wants to do so much for the world, whether she might become an actress or a politician. And while we have lots of differences, we still hold the same values and morals as human beings, and that’s something I look for in a friend, or perhaps even in a spouse. I’m not sure if I wanted to marry her later in the future, but I wanted to be close with her.

* * *

 

    I arrived back at my apartment long after I left the restaurant when I finished eating, inserting the key in the lock to unlock the door. When I opened the door, I unexpectedly found Maddie in the living room watching the news on the TV. I closed the door behind me once I walked in, welcoming her.   

    “Hey!” I said. “It’s been awhile. How was Florida?”

    Maddie looked at me for a minute, but continued watching the news in silence. I assumed that she was having a bad day again, so I went over to the couch and sat down with her. Now looking at her up close, she appeared to be miserable. I didn’t bother her for a couple of minutes or so, watching the news about Vietnam with her. I then decided to break the silence.

    “You came back pretty early,” I remarked. “Did you miss us?”

    “Yeah,” she sighed. “I really missed being here. That’s one reason I came home early.”

    “Did something happen?”

    “No, not really. Well, I fought with my dad a few times.”

    “What happened?”

    Maddie moved on the couch a bit, readjusting the blanket she had on her to keep her warm. She then sneezed, covering it up by moving her arm against her face.

    “Sorry about that,” she apologized. “What was I talking about? Oh yeah, my dad. Um, we fought about politics, mostly Vietnam shit. My dad thought my cousin dying in the conflict was so damn heroic. I thought it was a tragedy. I don’t know what else we argued about but he was such an asshole, Scottie.”

    “It’s okay, my dad was an asshole too,” I commented. “He sounds like he needs to get punched.”

    “I actually punched him, that’s why I went home early.”

    “Wait, you actually did?!”

    “Yup, I did. I don’t remember why I punched him. I think he said a nasty remark about gays. Yeah, that was it. Anyway, I was pretty upset, considering that I loved men and women. So I punched him square in the jaw.”

    “Whoa, holy shit,” I laughed. “Honestly he deserves it. Did he fought back or anything?”

    “Nah, but he yelled at me saying that I was no longer welcomed in the family,” Maddie recalled. “I don’t really care that much though. I didn’t like my family that much to begin with.”

    “Well, I’m glad you don’t have to see them anymore.”

    “Me too. My dad kinda bullied me too when I was little so I’m glad he’s out of my life now. I wish I did this earlier.”

    “I understand. At least it was better leaving now than never.”

    “Yeah. You do have a point.”

    Maddie grabbed the remote and changed the channel, tuning in to watch _Days of Our Lives_. Neither of us liked soap operas that much, but there was nothing else to watch that day.

    Later that evening at dinner, I asked Maddie if she wanted to do anything for her birthday tomorrow. Besides getting a cake and receiving gifts from me and Jules, she said she didn’t really want to do anything. She also said she wanted to go out and ice skate, but since she never went ice skating, she didn’t want to hurt myself. I chuckled a bit and promised her that I would teach her how to that day. Maddie thanked me.

    “It’s no problem,” I replied. “Speaking of gifts, do you want me to give you one of your presents early?”

    Maddie stopped eating again to speak.

    “Well, I don’t care when I get it either way,” she told me. “It’s up to you.”

    “I’ll give it to you early then.”

    When dinner was over, I got up from the dining table and walked to my room to grab Maddie’s gift. My room was cluttered and messy, so it took me a few minutes to find it. When I did, I wrapped it up real quickly and came out of my room. I presented the poorly wrapped gift to Maddie, telling her that I wrapped it up last minute since I forgot to wrap it days before. She told me that it was alright, especially since she didn’t knew she would come home this early. We sat back on the couch again as she carefully unwrapped her present, which she could already tell was a vinyl record. When she finally started to rip off large pieces of the paper, she let out a slight gasp once she saw the cover of the album. It was the Doors’ newest album, _Waiting for the Sun_. I knew she wanted that album for awhile now and didn’t have the money to buy it, so I worked a few hours extra in order to get the money to buy it for her.

    Maddie lays the album down on the coffee table and hugs me tightly.

    “Thank you so much, Scottie,” she whispered. “You’re the bestest friend I could ever had. I love you, man.”

    I smiled, rubbing her back a little with my hand.

    “I love you, too,” I replied. “I’m glad I met you. You’re a good friend, too. Jules thinks you’re great, too.”

    Maddie stopped hugging me to face me, and had a bigger smile on her face.

    “They really do?!” she exclaimed.

    “Yeah, they really do!” I nodded. “They think you’re cool and a really passionate person. They also like your sense of humor, man. They wish they knew you better.”

    “That makes me happy! I’m more than happy actually, I’m elated!”

    Maddie then started making gestures with her hands, which was something she did when she got very excited.

    “Like, I look up to Jules a lot,” she confessed. “I kinda wanna be like them some day. I mean, not be a teacher, but I wanna be a positive role model just like them! They have so many cool stories to tell, they’ve been everywhere, we share the same ideas, the same music taste . . . Jules is just so inspirational, man. I hope to just be as groovy as them.”

    “I think you will be,” I agreed. “I’m sure you’ll have a good impact on the future.”

    “I think you will too, Scottie. I just know already you’re gonna do so many great things for this world. I don’t think you would consider it, but if you were the president of the United States, the world would be a much better place.”

    “Why thanks! That’s such a big compliment, geez," I smiled.

    “Of course.”

    Maddie went to bed after our conversation had ended. I, on the other hand, stayed up longer to watch reruns of older _Star Trek_ episodes. While the commercials aired, I began to think about what the future could hold for the three of us. Not just what 1969 can do for us, but what laid in the 70s and beyond. After finishing the upcoming spring semester, I will finish my first year of my college. I still have no idea of what I want do when I graduate in the spring of 1972, but I know my uncertainty won’t last forever. Even if I might still feel like this in my last year of college, there will be something for me to do in the future. Whether I do become a film director or not, I will still have a great future.

    All seemed well until I remembered that Lev and Samuel were still out there somewhere in the world, waiting to strike at any minute. Even if we might stop them in time, I was still afraid that they might succeed in hurting someone either way. Suddenly, I began to overthink the situation and decided that it was time for me to go to bed. Even as I feel asleep, I had a horrendous dream that night of Lev and Samuel assassinating Paul McCartney, not that I cared about the Beatles that much but it was still a horrifying scene to witness even in a dream. The dream woke me up momentarily, causing me to yelp a bit before I would go back to sleep. For the rest of the night, I had no more nightmares but no good dreams either.


	5. Jules

    Another few months of what remained of the 1960s quickly flew by again. Maybe not a few, it was May now, almost time for school to be out. Scottie and Maddie had already finished their first year of college. Finals were a little draining for the two, but they managed to survive. I was especially proud of Maddie, who had told me in numerous private conversations she had been considering dropping out. Not that the workload was too much for her, but she felt that her health was in the way of her academic career. I reassured her that she would be able to complete college, like how I was able to obtain my current occupation. I felt that I was just as unwell and afraid of the future as her, but I didn’t let even the tiniest obstacle hold me back from what I loved doing the most.

    She would accept this advice from me and thanked me for it. I told her that I had no problem and replied that I know that she would do great in the future. However, she once gave me this grim reply:

    “I just hope I do have a future.”

    “Why do you say that?” I replied as I smoked a cigarette.

    “I . . . I dunno. It’s just sometimes I feel like I won’t live to see next year.”

    “Maddie, is there something wrong?”

    “No, no,” she shook her head, “it’s― I know it’ll sound crazy but I feel like something or someone will kill me soon.”

    “Why?”

    “I-I dunno. My head is messed up. It plays this fear on me.”

    I blew a puff of smoke before I resumed our conversation.

    “When do you think it’ll happen?” I asked out of curiosity.

    “That’s what I don’t know,” she admitted. “It could happen tomorrow, the next week, month, on Christmas, on my birthday. I just know something’s gonna get me before I see 1970.”

    “It’ll be alright, Maddie,” I reached out and held her hand. “Nothing will get you. Scottie and I are here, and you can lock the apartment anytime you want. But I promise you’ll be safe.”

    “I hope so. I just hope this is only in my head.”

    “It’ll be okay, sweetheart.”

    When the both of us went silent for a minute or two, I asked her if she would feel safer if I walked with her to places in case Scottie wouldn’t be able to. She agreed to that idea, suggesting that it would make her feel more comfortable when going out in public, especially at night when it’s likely to be dangerous to walk alone outside. I was glad that I was offering help to her, and that she was accepting that help. In the past, Scottie told me once, Maddie would have trouble accepting help from others. Even reaching out or venting to others was a difficult task for her, but recently she has learned that there are people all around who would not mind helping. Well, maybe not everyone has the time or capacity to handle anyone else’s problems, but many others will still be there for you.

    Another few weeks went by; it was now early June. Or was it mid-June? Either way, testing was done and school was out for the summer until September, so I had less stress to deal with now and focus on other tasks without feeling that I had to rush through them. At the same time, I realized that I didn’t have much to do as I thought originally. Aside from some occasional teacher conferences and meetings, reading the books I’ve been meaning to, and trying to figure out Lev’s plot, the only other thing I could do was sit at my apartment and watch television all day. Every so often, I would go out and shop, but that was just about it. Maybe I could attend a concert, but every time I would hear about one, tickets for that show would already be sold out. Luckily, we would agree to attend a three-day festival with various artists and bands performing. It sounded like a fun time for the three of us, but the music wouldn’t be the primary reason why we were attending the festival.

    Maddie and I were walking back to our apartment complex one afternoon after we did some shopping. By we, I accompanied Maddie while she visited a few stores to purchase new summer clothes. It wasn’t a lot, but that’s because she and Scottie were on a tight budget. Maddie did inform me however that she went to a job interview yesterday, walking to the location by herself.

    “That’s good!” my face brightened. “Did you think you got the job?”

    “Eh,” she shrugged her shoulders, “I dunno. I was pretty darn nervous the whole time. I didn’t break a sweat though, I’m hoping I get hired.”

    “I hope so too. Scottie has told me that you two have been tight on money lately.”

    “Yeah, we have. It’s been getting on my nerves so I knew I had to help me. I couldn’t just sit there and worry, y’know?”

    “Mhm,” I nodded my head, “plus, at least you’ll have something productive to do over the summer.”

    “And buy all the records and makeup I want!” Maddie added.

    “That too! But watch yourself too. I know I have to because I do some reckless spending occasionally.”

    “Don’t worry, grandma. I’ve got this.”

    When we came close to the apartment complex, an envelope bumped into my boot. Usually, I would ignore the trash as I walked by, but an envelope floating around in the middle of the city made no complete sense to me. Slowly, I lowered myself to the ground to pick up the mysterious piece of mail. When I flipped it over to look at the front, I realized that a return address wasn’t written anywhere on the envelope. It was even creepier when I saw that it had no address on it, yet it had a stamp and everything else on it.

    “What in the world?” I said in astonishment. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

    “Invisible ink?” Maddie suggested.

    “Huh?”

    “Maybe the addresses are written in invisible ink? I dunno what else it could be honestly.”

    “Still, this . . . this is just freaky.”

    “What are you gonna do with it, just keep it and open it when we get back to my apartment?”

    “Exactly,” I confirmed. “C’mon, let’s keep walking. We’re almost there.”

    Maddie gave me a puzzled look but went along with my plan. Instead of going back to her apartment, I decided to open up the mail at my apartment. In my apartment, I had an iron to use to press the heat on the envelope to be able to see the possible hidden addresses. Once we arrived at my place, I searched my closet until I found the electric iron stored away in a box. When I wiped all the dust off of it, I plugged it in and we waited until it was hot enough to reveal the writing once the iron was pressed on the paper. When I thought it was hot as it was, I started to press the iron on the envelope, but not too hard to accidentally burn the paper. Once it was done and over with, I unplugged the iron and left it on the kitchen stove to cool down.

    It was only for a few seconds that I glanced over the envelope. I was a fast reader; when I scanned my eyes over the addresses, I knew what was inside it meant horrible news. Yet, if we didn’t stumble upon this letter on this very day in 1969, much worse could have happened.

    “Oh Lord,” I stuttered.

    “What, what is it?” Maddie pleaded.

    Remaining silent was my only appropriate response. I didn’t expect to grab up another letter of theirs, but I did. When Maddie walked over to my desk where I was sitting, she gasped.

    “No!” she squealed. “It can’t be! Hold on.”

    Maddie rubbed her eyes furiously to make sure she wasn’t seeing it wrong. Unfortunately, they were the correct addresses, and when Maddie looked over my shoulder to read them again, she looked away from them again and groaned.

    “Why?!” she whined, sitting down on the couch in my living room. “I wish we didn’t have to hear from them again!”

    “I do too,” I said, leaving my desk to join Maddie, “but I believe it’s up to all three of us to stop them. You remember when that one officer said they couldn’t do anything to catch Samuel, right?”

    “Yeah, but isn’t that their job? To catch criminals like him and Lev?

    “Darling, I wish but the police are bastards. And since Samuel has gotten away many times, some of them have just given up.”

    “That’s bull.”

    “It’s the truth sadly. I’m gonna grab the envelope so we can see what’s inside it, okay?”

    “Okay.”

    Quickly, I retrieved the crispy envelope from my desk and began to open it. I gave myself a paper cut when I tore it open too fast, cursing at myself. The cut itself wasn’t that big so I ignored it for now and looked at what was inside the envelope. Inside it was a letter that had yet to be read and what seemed to be three pieces of brown paper. When I dumped the contents out of the envelope onto my lap, the pieces of paper turned out to be tickets to a music festival called Woodstock.

    “I’ve seen advertisements for these!” Maddie picked up on of the tickets. “They say it’s supposed to be the biggest festival of the year. Wait, if it is then . . .”

    Maddie didn’t bother to finish the sentence. Everything seemed to start falling into place once I unfolded the letter. The paper read the following:

 

_May 27, 1969_

 

 _Samuel_ ―

 

_I pray to God that you have received this letter. I have informed you over the phone that I have written these addresses in invisible ink so that no one would be able to see what they are. I also sent this letter to a secret underground post office so that this letter wouldn't be thrown out or have our plot discovered._

_Moving on, I have placed three admission tickets (I would’ve done two but I did three just in case one got lost) to the Woodstock Festival. “Why can’t we just enter illegally?” because I said so. Also, since the FBI is still, STILL looking for us, we will have to disguise ourselves as hippies or something to get in without being questioned. I know for a fact that police probably won’t attend the concert but we have to be cautious, especially when we go and plant those bombs near the stages. I hope to God I kill the Who, they fucking suck. I would rather drown myself than listen to Roger Daltrey scream for three or four minutes._

_Anyways, I sincerely hope you get this letter. If not, I’m going to beat your ass the next time we meet. Our plans cannot be foiled, it is UNACCEPTABLE. I will die if this letter somehow gets picked up by that old lady like last time. It was even more embarrassing when you just HAD to make a scene at that cafe in Brooklyn months ago. Aside from that, you know what our plan is now: obliterate Woodstock into pieces on the last day of the festival._

 

    ― _Lev de Campo_

 

    “I― this is so scary but also weird,” Maddie stuttered.

    “What’s weird?” I raised a brow.

    “That she hates a band so much she would kill them.”

    “I wouldn’t think it would be strange but just― that’s causing panic and terror.”

    “I know, I’m scared as shit right now.”

    We paused the conversation when we heard a knock. Not on my door but I heard knocking coming from the door next door to me.

    “Oh!” Maddie jumped up from the seat. “I forgot! Scottie’s back from work but I have the apartment key with me.”

    She left my apartment to greet Scottie and unlock the door. It looked like Maddie went inside to talk to Scottie, so I got up from the couch and collected the letter and tickets to show him what we came across with today. I stored the contents back into the envelope and left my apartment to present the material to Scottie.

    “Hi, Scottie,” I interrupted the conversation, “how was work?”

    “Boring as always,” he said, “someone’s mother did try to argue with me, but it didn’t last very long.”

    “What about?”

    “I forgot already,” he laughed. “So what’s going on, Maddie was about to tell me something.”

    Before I could give away all the details about the letter and such, I told him about where Maddie and I found the letter and why the envelope itself was burnt. Then, I dumped the letter and the tickets into his hands. He tossed the tickets onto the coffee table before he went on to read the letter. For the first couple seconds, he displayed a calm reaction while reading Lev’s second letter. Once he started to the read the second or third paragraph, he looked at the letter in dismay and looked back at the tickets with the same reaction. Scottie looked rapidly back and forth between the two until he stopped and read the rest of the letter in panic. When he was done, he threw the letter down on the coffee table and gave it a deathly glare.

    “We gotta stop them,” he demanded. He swooped up the three tickets in one hand. “I don’t care if I die or if I lose a leg or what, I’m going to Woodstock to stop them and you two are coming with me.”

    “But what can we do?!” Maddie blurted. “What will we do when we come across them? We’ve got no guns or self-defense of any kind, hell I dunno if any of us can put up a fight!”

    “I have experience,” I added in.

    The two youngsters gave me a confused look.

    “H . . . how?” Scottie inquired.

    “I’ve had lessons. I almost had to shoot someone one time but that’s another story I’ll tell someday.”

    “Oh, so you do know how to use a gun. What about you Maddie?”

    Maddie shrugs.

    “Well since I punched my dad, I guess I could put up a fight,” she assumed. “I don’t know if I could win an actual fight. Who knows.”

    “Good enough,” said Scottie. “At least you guys have had experience. Me? I’m a weak ass nerd.”

    Maddie and I let out the biggest laugh. Though I don’t like to pick on my friends, Scottie really was the typical weak nerd. Not that we wanted to make him feel bad, but we knew that him getting into a fight would probably be the worst thing he could possibly do. Like he stated earlier, he could either be injured or even killed if Lev or even Samuel pulled out a gun. Then, everything would go to hell in a matter of two seconds.

    “Okay, okay,” I chuckled. “Where will Woodstock be at?”

    “Wait, you don’t know?” Scottie blurted out.

    “Nah-uh. Lev didn’t mention anything about the location in the letter so that’s why I’m asking you.”

    “Wait, what are we talking about?” Maddie interrupted. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening. I just kinda spaced out.”

    “Where Woodstock is,” I answered. “Do y―”

    “Oh! I actually know where it is.”

    “Really?!”

    “Yeah!” she nodded her head. “Like remember when I said I’ve seen the ads for it? They said it’ll be held at a dairy farm in―”

    “A dairy farm?!” Scottie exclaimed. “You’re kidding me!”

    “No, I’m not! And it ain’t a little rinky-dink farm either, they say it has six hundred acres of land.”

    “All right I believe you know. And sorry for interrupting, just where is this dairy farm?”

    “In Bethel.”

    My face lite up. _Bethel? Bethel in New York?_ If this Bethel was in New York, then we would be able to make it to the festival on time.

    “Do you mean Bethel in New York, Maddie?” I asked.

    “Yeah,” she nodded, “It’s a small town though so I’ve never been there or have heard of it.”

    “I’ve driven through it a few times so I’m a bit familiar with the place. It’s not that far. Well, it’s a two and a half hour drive.”

    “That’s fine.”

    “We might have to leave a few days early though,” Scottie said while looking out the window, “I guarantee you there will be a huge ass traffic jam for miles.”

    “I honestly doubt that,” Maddie objected. “People wouldn’t be that desperate.”

    “Scottie’s actually right, Maddie,” I said. “A lot of big names are playing at Woodstock from what I’ve heard before. That’s why Lev targeted it in the first place; names like Creedence and Who and others are gonna attract large numbers. I think it’ll also make it harder for people to find her because well, there’s gonna be so many damn people there.”

    “Well,” she gulped, “that’s gonna be fun.”

    “It’s sure gonna be Hell,” Scottie remarked. “How are we gonna make sure they don’t hurt any of the concert goers? Out of the thousands of them?”

    I looked out of the window and onto the city, showing an emotion of uncertainty.

    “I . . . I don’t have a clue,” I sighed. “I know it’s not our fault if anyone gets hurt but . . .”

    I didn’t bother to finish the rest of my sentence, nor did Scottie or Maddie. For the rest of my time being there, all we did was discuss what we needed to bring to Woodstock and trying to figure out when we should leave for Bethel. All three of us agreed that the best time to leave would be August 12th, a Tuesday. It was a weekday, the perfect time to travel when everyone else would be at work. It was also good timing since school wouldn't be in session yet; I wouldn’t have to call a substitute teacher to take my place while I was out trying to land a supervillain in jail for planned terrorism.

    After we had come up with a concrete plan on how to get to Woodstock, I thanked Scottie and Maddie for helping me and I left their apartment, saying goodbye. For some reason when I returned to my apartment that evening, I felt like this would be the beginning of the end. Of course, I knew it was about time that we were going to stop Lev, but I was beginning to sense an eerie feeling about this trip. I knew something else was coming to an end, but I didn’t know what it was.


	6. Scottie

    All three of us left for Woodstock in the morning that very day. Little did I know that would be the last time Maddie and I would see each other, not right away when we left Brooklyn but some days later. Back to the story, we drove to Bethel in Jules’ 1964 Buick Riviera. None of us didn’t have to switch seats or take turns driving since Jules was the only one who knew how to get to Bethel. The ride was short like they had said in the first place, but we did have to slow down on the way there due to the traffic. It didn’t irritate any of us but I was astonished by how many people were arriving early to the festival already. It was only August 12th, just three days before Woodstock began. If that many people continued to come into Bethel at that rate, I would expect half a million attendees at the festival. I didn’t mind crowds much, but what concerned me was how we were going to track down Lev and Samuel. If we didn’t find them in time, who knows what could happen to any of the concert goers or the musicians.

    There was nothing to do at the campsite during our stay at the festival. Aside from all of us packing a few books to read, we were bored out of our minds. For another few days before the start of the festival, all we did was read, talk, and sleep. I attempted to sleep for as long as I could, thinking I could sleep through the next few days until the performances start. However, it just didn’t work like I expected it to. The plan only energized me with each nap I had taken. Jules and Maddie, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep at all. Jules found sleep uncomfortable and only went to bed when it was time for us to; Maddie couldn’t get any shut-eye at all. She wished she could sleep, but she said she was too excited thinking about the festival.

    “I know we’re on a mission,” she told me one night, “but I just can’t wait for this whole thing to start. I know it’s gonna be fab!”

    “That’s why I tried sleeping through these past few days,” I explained. “I just want it to start already because I’m so damn bored.”

    “I know. I am too, but we’ll get through this.”

    She was right. Those three days before the start of Woodstock felt like an eternity to me then, but when I woke up on that Friday morning in mid-August and saw that they were setting up the stage, I knew we were finally here. We had finally made it to Woodstock. And just as we expected, more attendees had arrived and had set up their own tents as well. Maddie and I, like every other young person, were happy to be here. Though it was crowded like it was back in Brooklyn, the atmosphere of the festival was much more peaceful and friendly.

    Nothing happened much on that very first day of the festival aside from the concert starting later that evening. The opening act was Richie Havens. Up until the concert started, Maddie and I had no idea who he was, but we did later found out that Jules liked some of his music, so we stayed for the first performance. We all thought it was amazing; the music also made me less anxious somehow. In that moment, I forgot about Lev and Samuel. I forgot about every conflict in the world. I forgot about my own personal problems and zoned out as the music played on.

    When Richie Havens had finished performing, there was a big round of applause, so loud that I could barely hear what Maddie was asking me.

    “What?” I blurted out.

    “Do you wanna swim in the pond nearby while we can?” she repeated her question. It was seven o’clock, but the summer daylight still lingered. I nodded, saying I would be there in a bit after I would change.

    Even though I had a small chest, I was still afraid to be perceived as a woman out in public. To avoid this, I wore two tank tops in order to make my chest appear flat. And as always, I wore a pair of swimming trunks and carried an extra pair with me in my bag just in case mine fell off while swimming. I also tossed a flashlight in there, a towel, and a wrapped piece of bread in plastic wrap to eat later.

    When I finished packing all of the stuff I needed and was ready to go, I waited until Maddie finished doing what she needed to do. Unexpectedly, when she came out of one of the tents, she shoved me playfully, causing me to drop my bag, and sprinted across the field toward the pond.

    “C’mon, I’ll race ya there!” she cheered.

    I chuckled for a moment, then picked up my bag and started running after her. I didn’t like running that much, but camping out here in rural New York and being playful with my crush made me nostalgic when I thought back to my childhood that occurred years back. While the whole world seemed like it was against me, I still missed those summer days when I got together with my family to have cookouts and go camping by the lake. Running around and playing tag with my cousins, fishing, telling stories around the campfire, good ol’ s’mores . . . I know I could go camping again with a friend anytime now if I wanted to, but in times like this, I really did wish I was a kid again. Sure, I was probably an annoying child, but it was a time where I wasn’t as afraid of the Cold War as I was now. I wasn’t constantly on the edge then and felt that I belonged. But I had changed so much and had grown aware that the world wasn’t as beautiful or as peaceful as I thought it was in my youth.

    As I approached the pond, I saw that Maddie had thrown down her bag of stuff at a tree nearby and was already swimming. I dipped my toes in the water to check the temperature, drawing my foot back when I realized that the water was a bit chilly.

    “C’mon, Scottie!” Maddie hollered. “Are you chicken or what?”

    “I’m not chicken!” I exclaimed. “I have to get used to the water first.”

    “Why don’t you just jump in and get it over with then?”

    “I―ugh, nevermind!”

    After letting out a big sigh, I marched toward the tree where Maddie had set her stuff down and laid my bag down next to her’s. Turning toward the pond, I took a few steps back, waited for a moment, and then start running again to the water. Before I reached the pond, I jumped up in the air and raised my legs to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs, yelling “Cannonball!” as I splashed into the water. When I swam up to the surface, I accidentally bumped into Maddie. She wasn’t a bit mad at me at all; she let out a chuckle and I played along and laughed.

    “So you like swimming?” I asked her.

    “Yeah,” she said, “that’s honestly the only thing I miss about Florida. I actually used to live near the beach.”

    “Oh, that’s cool. Yeah, I’ve lived near the ocean my whole life but I’m not really a beach kind of guy. But I like nature . . . and lakes.”

    “Sounds groovy. Even though I miss the beach, I actually don’t miss Florida weather.”

    “What’s it like down there?”

    “Oh, um, one minute it’s all nice outside and then the next, it’s raining cats and dogs. And the humidity is just bad, Scottie. Not nice for your hair at all. Also, you get swarmed by a bunch of mosquitoes.”

    “Geez, how do those people live?”

    “We don’t, Florida is Hell on Earth.”

    We both let out a burst of laughter.

    For another half hour or so, we swam and talked a bit more about what our lives were like during high school and before that. Maddie had already figured out that I was the nerd; I was surprised to learn that she was one of the most popular girls at her high school and was admired of course. She seemed happy talking about it for a moment or two, but then she began to talk about how she really didn’t feel that anyone liked her. Back in middle school, Maddie had faced some bullying and was often teased about her appearance. Believe it or not, she was much fatter back then. When the bullying grew worse, Maddie would sometimes skip meals and throw away her food in secret so that her parents wouldn’t find out. She would lose weight, but since it was unhealthy and harmful, she experienced rapid weight loss. To this day she still faces her disordered eating habits, but she had gained back some weight and now weighed at a little above average.

    I know she was doing much better now than she was years ago, but I had to swim back to shore so she wouldn’t see me cry. She followed me and saw that I was wiping away my tears with one of the towels I had packed. The both of us sat down underneath the tree on another towel. It was good timing that we decided to get out of the pond then; the sun was about to set and we didn’t want to swim in the dark. To brighten up our surroundings, Maddie took out a portable lamp from her bag and turned it on, setting it down next to her.

    “I’m sorry for making you cry, Scottie,” she apologized. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

    “No, no, it’s not your fault,” I sniffled. “I just get emotional sometimes, ya know? And not to sound weird but I really care about you, man. I care about you so much, you don’t even know.”

    “Honestly I kinda feel the same way about you.”

    “You do?”

    “Yeah! You’re like a best friend to me.”

    While Maddie took out another towel and used it to dry herself, I thought something over. _Should I tell her I like her? Like, as in, I love her?_ I thought to myself. I really wanted to show Maddie how much I cared about her and how I loved her with all my heart, but I was also worried that she would react differently than I would expect her to. Hell, I feared rejection so much because I feared that no one would love me because of my identity. I tried not to think about it so much, but I couldn’t stop to the point where I almost started crying again. Wiping away my tears, I coughed a few times before I turned my head to speak to Maddie.

    “So,” I continued the conversation, “you said you care about me?”

    “Yeah,” she told me, sitting back down. “And like I said, you’re like a best friend to me. Well, um . . .”

    “Huh? What do you mean?”

    Maddie blushed and appeared to look embarrassed.

    “Well, um . . . Jesus, I don’t know where to start,” she said awkwardly. “I feel stupid.”

    “No, no, it’s okay. Just take your time,” I reassured. “I won’t make fun of you either, I promise.”

    “Okay, if you say so . . .”

    Before Maddie could say anything else, she continued to dry herself and then started drying her hair. When she was done, she took a deep breath and let out a big sigh when she exhaled.

    “Um . . .” she mumbled, “I . . . I kinda like you.”

    My eyebrows raised in surprise.

    “What do you mean?” I asked. “I mean, I know what you’re saying, but do you like . . . love me?”

    She nodded.

    “Yeah, I do,” she said. “I know I said a while back I wouldn’t date a nerd like you but I realized that you’re so much more than that.”

    “I get what you mean,” I replied. “And I actually have a crush on you too.”

    I felt sheer embarrassment, but Maddie hugged me tightly and comforted me.

    “I’m so happy you feel that same way!” she cheered. “I wish I could tell you that I loved you earlier, but every time I thought about confessing I would get so nervous.”

    “Me too,” I added. “Well, I didn’t feel nervous but I was scared you would reject me. The only person I told my feelings about you were to Jules.”

    “You told Jules? That’s so funny because I told them too!”

    We both looked at each other in amazement and laughed. It must’ve been a funny situation to be in, where two of your good friends had an unrequited love for each other. It was probably harder for Jules since they couldn’t tell us the truth. Maybe they wanted to surprise us and actually enjoyed watching us fall in love. Who knows? I can’t really place myself in their shoes and imagine.

    After we finished drying ourselves off, we packed our belongings and headed back to our tents as the sun was setting far in the distance. We had to be careful about what we were walking on; even though there was still some light outside for us to see where we were going, we had to watch our step in case we ran into snakes or other rodents. Luckily, we didn’t come across any of those creatures. All we stepped on during the trip back were some pointy sticks that made us flinch, but didn’t seriously injure us. We made it back to our campsite at 8:20 P.M., exactly when some guy named Bert Sommer started performing. In the distance, I could see clouds starting to form up. Maddie looked up at the sky and noticed too.

    “Do you think it’ll rain later tonight?” she asked me.

    I squinted my eyes, trying to see if the clouds were dark either because of the weather or because of the black night that had arrived.

    “Nah, I don’t think it should rain,” I concluded. “It looks pretty cloudy from here.”

    “Hopefully it’s just cloudy.”

    When we approached our tents, we saw that Jules was listening to their portable radio inside one of the tents, looking disgruntled. I couldn’t tell if they were disgusted by Sommer’s voice or by the radio, so I sat down with them while Maddie went back to the other tent to change.

    “What’s wrong?” I asked. “You seem kinda upset.”

    Jules looks away from their radio and shifts their attention to me.

    “I’m a little upset,” they admitted. “Well, more than that really, and it’s over two things.”

    “What, what happened?” I urged.

    “Just give me a second to get my thoughts together.”

    While I waited for Jules to gather their thoughts, I watched the performance from a distance. Then, Maddie came out of the second tent and sat down with us in the other tent, making us adjust ourselves to make room for her.

    “So what’s going on?” she inquired. “I thought I heard something.”

    “Well, there are two things,” Jules started. “One of them is that it’s going to rain tonight, and I don’t think these tents are waterproof.”

    “You’ve gotta be kidding,” I shook my head.

    “I’m not, the weatherman on the radio said so,” they confirmed. “Also, I think I saw Lev and Samuel walking by while you two were at the pond.”

    “Really?!” Maddie blurted.

    “I think I did,” Jules said. “I’m not completely sure, but they looked like it. I don’t know where their hideout is though, so they’re either far from us or nearby.”

    “That’s crazy,” I added. “We gotta find them tomorrow. We can’t let them hurt anyone.”

    “I know,” they clarified, “that’s why one of you guys have to stay awake and watch out for the two of us for the next few hours. We’re gonna do this by sleeping in shifts, and I’m sleeping first obviously because I’m old!”

    They let out a chuckle but then point back and forth at me and Maddie.

    “But seriously,” Jules continued, “which one you will stay up and keep an eye out while the other is asleep?”

    “I’ll do it,” Maddie volunteered. “I mean, I might as well because I can barely sleep some nights.”

    “Okay, but when your shift is up, you should really get some shut-eye.”

    “I will.”

    “That’s good. And only wake us up if it’s an emergency. You know I hate getting anxious over nothing.”

    “I know, I’ll always remember that.”

    After the discussion, the three of us sat in our tents doing nothing but watching the performances. During this time, Maddie and I told Jules that we had confessed our love to each other at the pond. As expected, Jules laughed and knew that us being a couple was coming one day. Maddie and I played along, laughing and joking around with Jules until they got a bit emotional and hugged the living daylights out of us.

    “From the beginning, I always knew that you two would do great things together,” they sniffed. “And I’m so happy that you two have finally realized that you were for each other.”

    I was glad too that I was with Maddie now. She felt the same too.

    Jules and I went to bed at ten o’clock that night just when Ravi Shankar started playing. I found his music to be soothing to my ears, causing me to drift off to sleep immediately. That night, good dreams came to me again and I felt that I was having the time of my life in my own peaceful world. At the same time, I felt nothing but I guess that’s what was so calming about it. It wouldn’t last for long when Maddie started shaking my body and told me to wake up. I yawned and rubbed my eyes while she started waking up Jules. From what I was hearing, Maddie didn’t sound worried but sounded excited when Jules finally woke up, telling them to get out of the tent to see who was performing. When I had enough energy to get up, I went outside to see what was going on and found Jules and Maddie sitting down in front of the tents, watching Joan Baez’s performance. I sat down next to Jules and watched, noticing that they had cried some tears of joy. Later that night when the performance was over and I was about to start my shift, Jules told me that they admired Baez for keeping them alive in this world these past few years. I told them that I thought she was an inspirational figure too. With that, they hugged me one more time and told me goodnight before going back to bed.

    For the rest of that night, I felt much more peaceful than I had ever had in my whole life. Even with the world in chaos at this very moment in time, Woodstock had reminded me that there was more good in this world than I imagined. And thanks to Jules, my new girlfriend Maddie, and my tent neighbors who kept me company that night and talked to me for hours, I felt that I had a place in the world despite the many differences I had. When the sun rose at six o’clock that very morning, I crawled into the tent that Maddie slept in, held her close to me, and passed out on the spot.


	7. Jules

    It was almost two o’clock in the afternoon when we all woke up, and I felt agitated and disappointed to know that I had woke up late and thought that Lev and Samuel have possibly caused catastrophe already. Nothing happened luckily when I went outside of the tent and saw that only more people showed up to the festival. We were all safe, but it was getting quite crowded now, and the days were going by faster than I had previously thought. Scottie, Maddie, and I only have today and tomorrow, the 16th and 17th of August, to find Lev and Samuel and have them placed under arrest before they can wage terror in rural New York. Only two days to find their hideout and put a stop to their evil for good. I doubt we would catch them in time, yet I still had confidence that we would have enough time to catch up to them and rid society of them and their wrongdoings. I strongly believe so, but I dreaded the thought of possible failure if we didn’t make it in time to stop them.

    My mood worsened when I discovered that the ground felt a bit wet. Of course from what announced on the radio last night, I only had one guess of why the ground was wet. _Damn rain_ I thought _How did I not noticed this last night?_ Not only was the ground damp and all, my bag was probably rained on too, along with the clothes that I had packed in it. My portable radio remained dry, fortunately, but I was still irritated to find out that my belongings had been rained on. My anger went away quickly when I reminded myself that I would have time to dry my clothes later in the day when I had time to. Maybe Scottie and Maddie can dry their clothes too. I don’t think either of them could stand being naked in public, especially Scottie since it would make him feel uncomfortable about his body image.

    When I went to their tent to wake them up, I found Scottie holding Maddie close to him, close enough to where his lips barely touched Maddie’s forehead. This warmed my heart, making me smile. Before I thought about waking the two lovebirds up, I retrieved my Polaroid camera from my bag and tested it to see if it was still functioning. When the film fully developed to signal that my camera was working, I aimed my camera at the scene and clicked the button once again to capture the image. When the second film finished developing, I observed it for a few seconds and smiled at it, storing it in the photo album in my bag. Thankfully, my photo album wasn’t ruined by the rain too, so it was safe to store my photographs in it. I would’ve given the photo to Scottie when I wake him up, but for some odd reason, I felt that it would be a better idea for me to carry it with me. Not that I don’t trust Scottie or Maddie holding onto it, but I had an eerie feeling that something would happen soon.

    After I finished getting dressed in the only pair of dry clothes I had, I finally woke up Scottie and Maddie and informed them that we had all slept in late. Maddie seemed a bit cranky to find out about this, but Scottie told us that he didn’t care since he got to wake up just in time to hear Santana performing. I agreed with his statement, and the two of us watched the rest of Santana’s performance as Maddie got dressed in the tent. When it was over, Scottie went back to the tent to get dressed just as Maddie finished and exited it.

    “So,” she yawned as she walked toward me, “what’s the plan for today to make sure Lev and Sam don’t beat feet?”

    “Excuse me?” I said with a puzzled expression on my face. “What on God’s green Earth does that mean?”

    Maddie burst out laughing and slapped her knees, wiping a tear from her eye from laughing so hard.

    “‘Beat feet?’’ she giggled. “It just means to quickly leave the scene. Haha, I’m sorry! I forget that you’re old!”

    “No, no, it’s all good!” I chuckled. “I sometimes forget I’m old too! I just look young so that might be why I guess.”

    “Yeah, I would too if I looked like that when I’m old. Anyway, what’s the plan?”

    “Well, to be quite frank, I didn’t really come up with anything last night. I was just too upset to think about anything else. But I guess you, Scottie, and I can look around the whole area to see where Lev and Samuel are.”

    “I’m actually cool with that,” Maddie nodded. “I’m very good at spotting things out, even from a distance! So I think we should be able to find them in no time.”

    “You have a good point there. But just that I’m old so I might not be as good as you when it comes to searching for things.”

    “True, true. So when are we gonna start searching?”

    “I think right after we eat something. It’s almost three so we might as well get on with it now than later.”

    When I finished speaking, Scottie came out of the tent wearing the only pair of dry clothes he had left: sunglasses, beige shorts, sandals, and two white tank tops to flatten his chest. Before that moment, I had never seen Scottie wear such a thing, so I tried to contain my laugh until tears started to build up in my eyes and let out a burst of laughter, almost falling to the ground. I laughed for a good minute or two until Maddie suggested it was time for me to calm down. After I regulated my breathing and exhaled, Scottie asks the following:

    “So what were you guys talking about earlier?” he questioned us. “I heard some things but I still couldn’t understand because I was busy getting ready.”

    “Jules wants us all to look around this whole area to find Lev and Samuel,” Maddie recalled.

    “Ugh,” Scottie groaned. “Okay, I actually don’t have a problem with this, but are we splitting up?”

    “Oh, no no!” I shook my head. “We’re gonna stay together. I gotta be crazy to do such a thing like that!”

    “Well, I was just making sure,” he said.

    “Alrighty,” I continued. “Let’s cut the chit-chat now and eat. We might have to look for them all day or even night so we can’t waste any more time now.”

    From that point on until we started the search, Scottie and Maddie stayed silent. They seemed excited about the mission since they practically inhaled what was left to eat for us. Well, maybe they didn’t eat at such a fast rate. We had to save as much food as possible since we didn’t pack as much as we thought. My appetite had not been raged with hunger these last few days, but I worried about how much the kids were eating. It felt weird to call them kids. They weren’t exactly my children, nor were they minors, but since I was much older than them I thought it was appropriate to call them “my kids.” And even though I had known them for nearly a year, I had grown protective of them like a mother would.

    The search started at three o’clock that afternoon when Scottie had eaten the last piece of bread. We searched around our area first, of course, then went upward, and then further. Turned around, turned left, turned back, walked straight ahead, and so on. The only time we went back to our tents was to retrieve our flashlights, grab a portable lamb, and eat. At nearly eleven o’clock that Saturday night while the Grateful Dead were playing, we had searched the entire plot of land, except for the pond where Scottie and Maddie had confessed their love for each other. Halfway through our journey to the pond, Scottie realized that he left his journal at the tent and asked me if it was okay for him to go back and get it. I told him that it was fine with me, as long as he was careful and knew his way to the pond. Without hesitation or another word, he ran off into the distance and we watched until Maddie and I could no longer see the beam of light coming from his flashlight. After that, the two of us continued the trip.

    I shined the light on the pond when we arrived, checking to be sure there were no unwanted intruders or possible henchmen hanging around, waiting to ambush us. There was none in sight, so we started searching again, but this time Maddie and I split up to have a better look around. Since Maddie had already explored one portion of the pond, I checked that area just to be sure they didn’t relocate to that said spot. There was nothing there, however, so I moved on to another area and searched for clues. For a moment, I thought I found something, but then I stopped dead in my tracks when I heard Maddie.

    “Come over here!” she called. “I think I found something!”

    I walked on over in a hurried manner to see what was it that Maddie had found. When I had arrived at the scene, it wasn’t what I had in mind. Instead of a big, grand headquarters, Maddie had found a cave. Its entrance was covered up by an enormous gray blanket that was hanging from some nails that were dug deep into the rock. If this really was Lev’s temporary hideout, it would be quite funny but also disappointing for a supervillain.

    “This . . . this can’t be it,” I denied. “They wouldn’t just hide in some nasty ol’ cave. They can’t, they just can’t.”

    “To be honest, Samuel might,” Maddie joked around. “Maybe this is his place. Lev might be up in the trees, you never know.”

    “Lev wouldn’t have the audacity to treat herself like that. She’s a supervillain of high-class, so she’s probably camping in a luxurious tent somewhere. We’re still gonna look at what’s inside this cave though.”

    “Yeah, better safe than sorry.”

    “Exactly.”

    Maddie led the way and lifted up part of the blanket to get a glance at what the interior of the cave was like. Surprisingly, the cave was nicely decorated and set up in an organized manner. Two mattresses laid in the corner of the cave since the cave was spacious enough to fit the two small mattresses in the corner. To keep the mattresses clean, Lev and Samuel had a dark bed sheet or two laid underneath their beds, with a mat laid down to the side for them to wipe their shoes on. Against the wall, they had set up a desk there that had only one drawer. It was open and showed that it had nothing important inside of it. There were pieces of paper that were crumpled up into balls, but when we flattened them out they didn’t contain any messages tied to their plot. Most of them were reminders, some miscellaneous doodles, and on one note I found, Lev talked about an ex-girlfriend. They were all worthless and had no importance, but I did hold onto one humorous note. It was written by Samuel since I could tell apart his writing now from Lev’s. On it, it read the following:

 

    _Ya ever want to shove yerself into the oven and just blow the fuck up?_

 

_1984 was fucked up._

 

_ Emma wants me to visit and see David again but last time I saw the bastard, he almost broke my nose with a piece of glass and I had to get stitches.  _

_When Lev dies, I’ll lower her into her coffin so I can let her down one last time._

 

“This last sentence is hilarious,” I giggled.

    “Huh?” Maddie said.

    “Nothing. Let’s just keep looking.”

    As requested, Maddie kept looking while I inspected the desk and put a lamp on it before I moved on to a different section of the cave. When I looked down at my feet, I had noticed that they had placed a carpet down on the ground. I don’t know what they needed a carpet in a cave, but I would assume they wanted to feel like that were at home somehow, even though they were constantly on the move. Maybe Samuel might not care much for the sort of thing, but Lev possibly might have brought it along.

    There were chairs standing in the cave too, but they were not made for them to sit on. Instead, they used them as nightstands to place their lamps and other items at. Batteries, pens, and remaining snacks were all they had placed there. _Damn,_ I thought, _they made sure they left nothing behind at all._ I was about ready to tell Maddie that it was time for us to leave the place until I heard her yelp. In a brisk movement, I turned my head toward the source of the sound and found Maddie getting up from the floor.

    “Are you okay?” I walked up to her, trying to look for any scratches or bruises on her.

    “Yeah,” she grunted. “Well, I didn’t see where I was walking and tripped on some rocks. I’m not hurt though, thank God.”

    I pointed my flashlight at the pile of rocks and discovered that there was one place where we hadn’t checked. Between the cracks, I could see a dark blue color. Maddie noticed too and squat down to pick up and move the rocks to reveal what was hiding underneath. When I caught a glance of the unknown object, I assumed that it might have been Lev’s very own journal. Despite what I had thought, there was much more than that when Maddie had picked up the last bit of rocks off of the items. Not only was there a small blue book underneath all of that, but it also contained a passport and a folded-up piece of paper.

    “Start looking at it!” I whispered. “We gotta do it quickly now.”

    “I’m on it,” replied Maddie.

    Already, I had my hands on the book while Maddie began to unfold the paper. Before I could read what was written in the book, I opened the passport for a short moment and saw that it belonged to Lev just from looking at the photo. It was the first time I had ever looked at a photo of her, but the description of her I had in mind matched almost perfectly with the passport photo. Lev was a bit older than I had previously thought; I predicted that she would be in her late twenties, but she had turned thirty-five back in June. You could tell by looking at the photograph that she hadn’t aged a day over twenty-seven and had a youthful appearance like me. Her hair had a blonde ― almost white ― color and it was formed in perfect waves, growing past her shoulders. Nothing about her face stood out to me, with the exception of her bright, crimson red lips and her thin, long nose.

    Moving on, I pried open the journal, causing it to produce a cracking noise since it had not been opened in God know’s how long. I felt extremely nervous about reading a supervillain’s diary, so all I did to gather information was to skim through the journal itself. The first couple of journal entries contained no critical information; they all dated back to 1964, so I figured that those pages weren’t worthy of reading. Flipping through the book again, I kept an eye out for recent entries. At last, I spotted an entry that dated back to just merely four days ago, the same day we arrived at Woodstock. The passage read the following:

   

    _August 12th, 1969_ ―

 

  * _Set up bombs evenly within the area of the festival. Remember to connect red to red to enable them._


  * _Plant another bomb near the stage about a couple of hours before the Who play. Set it off at the finale._


  * _Set up a few more bombs for the final act._


  * _Read map to memorize the location of the bombs._



 

    “Maddie, you gotta read this real quick,” I said.

    “I don’t think so,” boomed an unfamiliar voice. It sounded female and held an Italian accent. I had no other guesses about who it was behind us.

    When I turned around, I faced the beam of my flashlight at the entrance of the cave to reveal the dark shadow figures that stood before us. Just what we had expected, it was Lev de Campo and Samuel Saintsberry, standing there with an enraged look on their faces. Lev didn’t seem so bothered, but I could tell that Samuel had developed a burning hatred for me since he escaped from the cafe back in Brooklyn almost a year ago. The one to reach into their bag and produce a gun in their hand yet was Lev, who pointed the weapon at us. Not sure how to react, Maddie and I put our hands up to indicate that we want no harm. We tried to remain calm as possible, but I could tell this was going to be traumatic for Maddie. I could see the fear deep in her eyes when I glanced at her for nearly a second.

    Keeping our hands up, Lev still pointed her gun at as but began to slowly approach us. Samuel remained standing at the entrance, watching us with his cold, menacing eyes. To think about it, he looked similar to an elderly, vicious dragon of some sort. Maybe it was his sharp, vast nose and bold, bushy eyebrows, and the wrinkles he had. Either way, he appeared threatening and was attempting to be intimidating, but we all knew that he acted cowardly. Lev would give off the impression that she wouldn’t hurt a child and appeared to be naive. Judging by her past, she will kill again and again until she was put in her place.

    Lev kept on approaching me until her face was a few mere inches away from mine, staring straight into my eyes. Wherever my eyes looked to, her’s would follow to see what was I up to. I felt hopeless for a second, but then thought up a clever plan to distract her. When I looked to the right, her eyes still locked on mine. Swiftly and quietly, I lifted my left leg and dropped the flashlight to the ground. My plan had worked; Lev was startled by the sight of me dropping my flashlight and immediately, I kicked her hard enough to stun her and pushed her straight down onto to ground. As she fell back, her gun slipped out of her hand and Maddie quickly grabbed it, running outside of the cave. Before Samuel could snatch her, I grabbed both of his arms and restrained him.

    “Hurry, Maddie!” I exclaimed.

    Samuel elbowed me in my chest, inflicting pain on me and causing me to scream. My strength started to give up, allowing Samuel to pry himself out of my arms. He turned around and tried to punch me in my jaw, but my hand held onto his clenched fist with force and I drove my fist to his temple, knocking him down to the ground as he cursed me out. I was about to kick the bastard in the balls, but then Lev violently pulled my hair and started to scratch me with her sharp, black nails.

    “Dammit!” I screeched, trying to push her away from me. “Get off me!”

    “Maybe if you didn’t come here and invade my privacy, I wouldn’t be trying to kill you,” she hissed. “But you couldn’t, you nosy bitch!”

    Before she could attempt to choke me, Maddie rushed back into the cave and threw a punch, hitting Lev’s jaw, the same place where she had punched her father last Christmas. Without hesitation, she threw another punch straight to the eye, forcing her to let go of me and knocked her back down. To make sure she wouldn’t get up a second time, Maddie kicked her in the chest. Lev cursed loudly at the two of us, telling us to rot in Hell and such. All I could do was laugh at her, and to spite her, I spat on her face. She groaned in anger, cursing again under her breath. The two of us continued to laugh at her until a bullet was shot and hit the wall. Maddie and I turned our heads quickly, feeling our hearts sank when we saw that Samuel stood a few feet away, aiming his gun at us and looked quite furious.

    “Nobody should insult Lev de Campo in such a childish way that you stupid pricks are doing!” he cursed at us. “Don’t move or you’re not living to see the last day of this damned festival!”

    Right after he had said that Scottie awkwardly punched the back of Samuel’s head and tackled him, bringing them both down to the ground. Samuel had dropped his gun, but he left it hidden somewhere. When he had him pinned to the ground with his knees, Scottie began to punch him again but with greater force than he had done the first time. Once, twice, three times. I had lost count of how many times Scottie had punched him. I stood there in shock, convinced that the man that was punching Samuel was not Scottie.

    “Stop!” Maddie cried. “Scottie, that’s enough!”

    Maddie dragged Scottie off of Samuel as he gave him one final punch. Samuel didn’t seem unconscious, but I could tell he was not going to get off the ground anytime soon. Scottie looked down at him in anger, but quickly his face was filled with regret when he realized how beaten up Samuel look and saw how bloody and broken his nose was. He didn’t shed any tears for the man, but he was trembling in fear, thinking he had turned into a monster.

    “I-I . . .” he stuttered. “I don’t know why I did that. I didn’t know I was that strong.”

    “It’s okay, Scottie,” Maddie sniffled. “I promise you didn’t do anything bad, but you just have to be careful.”

    “But I’m scared, Maddie,” he croaked. “I’m scared I won’t be able to control myself next time.”

    “But we’ll help you!” I said. “I promise you we won’t let you do that again.”

    After I had said that, I saw tiny crimson balls thrown onto the ground, which all ignited a thick fog of smoke. All of us were coughing from the unpleasant smell that had emerged from the fog and couldn’t see anything in front of us. I then realized that Lev and Samuel were escaping; we could all hear footsteps shuffling out of the cave as quick as possible. I reached out my hand and walked slowly, attempting to see if I could grab one of them. Unfortunately, I could tell it was too late when the fog started to clear up and saw that they were gone. They had taken everything with them but the furniture, including Lev’s journal and passport. My heart sunk and I almost started to cry, until Maddie had pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket. I took it, observed it and recognized that it was the exact piece of paper that she had found earlier. I could tell since it was the only piece of paper that was folded up in the cave. I offered to unfold it with her and Scottie, which they gladly accepted. Together, the three of us gently unfolded it and were surprised to see what was drawn on the paper. It was the map that Lev had wrote about in her journal, the one which listed all the locations of the bombs she and Samuel had placed at Woodstock.

    “Maddie,” I turned to her, smiling, “you're literally about to save Woodstock.”

    “Like I said earlier!” she cheered. “I’m good at observing and looking for things. You can definitely count on me in the future!”

    “We definitely will! And Scottie, do you know what time it is?”

    Scottie asked us to give him a second, allowing to check his watch. He raised his eyebrows in astonishment.

    “It is thirty minutes past midnight!” he announced.

    “It doesn’t even feel that late!” Maddie blurted. “I guess time flies when you’re too busy catching criminals.”

    “I guess. So, are we going back to the tent now?”

    “I wish but we can’t even do that right now,” I confessed. “Apparently, we have to disable a bomb before the Who step foot on stage.”

    “Oh, right,” Scottie groaned. “Lev hates the Who.”

    “Yup,” I nodded.

    We gathered our bags and our lights before the three of us headed out to disable the bomb. To remember how to deactivate them, I quickly scribbled a note on my small notepad that I would have to disconnect or cut the red wires from each other. I passed off the tip to Scottie and Maddie too and urged them to remember that when the time came for us to find the other bombs at the festival. We had to make sure that we would get every single one in the area and prayed to God that no one else would accidentally trigger any of the bombs and set them off. None of us could afford innocent people dying at the hands of Lev and Samuel.

    It was almost one in the morning when we got back to the tents; the crowd was bigger and pretty enthusiastic, all because Creedence Clearwater Revival was performing. I felt happier myself, but I still felt somewhat uneasy about two things. One thing I was concerned about was the bomb, the other was how were we supposed to deactivate it without anyone noticing? The last and final problem was mud. Everywhere, everyone and everything was muddy due to the rain that had been pouring down on us these last few days. It was miserable, but most of the attendees here didn’t care so much about the weather.

    I told Scottie and Maddie to go back to the tents while I would try to convince security that a bomb had been placed near the stage. When I went up to them and told them of the news, they actually seemed concerned about the matter. Honest to God, it gave me so much relief to know that they would actually offer to take care of the problem. While I didn’t know exactly where the bomb was placed, I took out my notepad and showed them my notes that they had to disconnect the red wires from each other in order to deactivate them. They thanked me for the tip, and before I could walk back to my tent they asked me how I knew this. Right off the bat, I told them that I had discovered that Lev and Samuel were hiding out in a cave near a pond that was close by. However, I left out details of the fight that went on in case it would get me into trouble. I lied to them that they had approached us and held us hostage for a bit until they left the cave and left us alone. When I was finished telling the false story, the security asked one last question, inquiring me if Lev and Samuel had placed other bombs elsewhere. Yes was my answer, which required me to go back to the tent and retrieve the map from Maddie. I gave it to security and let them copy down the drawings and writing on their own map as well.

    When that was all done again, they thanked me for informing them of Lev and Samuel and told me they would notify me when they had found and disabled the bomb that was near the stage. Again, I felt much better knowing that they would finally take care of it. Yet, I still felt distressed about how this would all end. Without thinking about it, I went back to the tents as I walked through the sea of muddy hippies.


	8. Scottie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: Violence, death.

    I had gone to sleep once Maddie and I returned to our tent, but only slept for a few hours when Jules had woke us up. Lack of sleep made me grumpy, so I didn’t expect a good reason why they were waking us up. But when I stepped outside and rubbed my eyes, I couldn’t believe who was performing right in front of my tired eyes. It was none other than the Who, playing early in the morning at five o’clock. Like yesterday or so, all three of us sat down and watched the performance. I was a bit anxious about if security had found the bomb yet or not, but for the rest of the Who’s concert, I felt content and tried to ward off any other disturbing thoughts that would come into mind. Six o’clock in the morning was when the performance had ended; it was impressive and very far out, probably one of the best performances at Woodstock that I had seen. After it was over, the group and I went back into the tents, which were crammed into the crowd now at this point. Since it was the last day of the festival, I hoped that people would start leaving today. These past few days had been chaotic, miserable, and dirty since the weather had beaten down on us and turned the land into a muddy wasteland. I didn’t care much about getting dirty, but I could tell that Jules and Maddie were irritated to the core about getting mud on themselves.

    I passed out again after I had a small conversation with Maddie. I felt wired even though I wasn’t up for that long. Woodstock had destroyed my normal sleep schedule; I could wake up at five in the afternoon today and think that would be perfectly normal for me. Jules, on the other hand, had a normal-ish sleep schedule and would probably be furious if I slept in late. They wouldn’t be boiling with rage but they would find it quite annoying that I would wake up later than I was supposed to. Just like I had almost predicted, I woke up at three in the afternoon but by Maddie shaking me awake.

    “Wake up, sleepy head,” she joked around. “We gotta get ready again. Jules says that another thunderstorm is coming.”

    “Ugh, really?” I complained. “I’m honestly so tired of this, I wish I could just go home.”

    “I do too, but Lev and Sam are still out there, waiting to attack us any minute now.”

    I groaned and continued to complain about how camping out here was the biggest mistake of my life, about how I wished we ignored this plot and let the authorities handle it instead.

    “I regret coming here too,” Maddie agreed. “But I’m also glad because I’m with you, and I got to spend much more time with you than when we were in school.”

    “That’s . . . that’s nice of you,” I smiled awkwardly, blushing. “I’m glad we could be together, too. I love you more than anything.”

     Maddie gave me a small yet warm smile. That smile looked like the kind of smile she would fake when she didn’t want anyone to know she was upset, but with effort, I could tell that she was genuinely happy. Thankful, she was, to be with me in a time of disaster. Slowly, she leaned toward me and pressed her lips against mine, wrapping her arms around my neck. I felt a little shocked and awkward that she decided to kiss me here and now, but I smiled and was filled with much joy. I didn’t have a clue of what to do next, so I allowed Maddie to continue to kiss me. After a minute or two, she drew her lips away and kissed me on the cheek, giggling. I followed on by kissing her forehead. After that, I sank into her arms and smiled like a goofball.

    “I’m so happy I have you,” I whispered to her. “I love you so much, Maddie.”

    “I love you too, Scottie,” she said in a happy tone. “I hope things get better from here on out.”

    “I do too. I hope so when we get back to Brooklyn.”

    “Me too . . . I wish we could go home now but we can’t today.”

    I propped myself up and gently pushed myself away from Maddie’s arms, looking at her in confusion.

    “What do you mean?” I asked her. “What is going on?”

    “Jules told me they’re extending the festival to tomorrow,” she informed me. “Some of the acts haven’t performed yet and they need more time.”

    In that moment in my imagination, a lightbulb popped up above my head and I gasped.

    “Maddie, that’s actually perfect!” I told her with excitement. “It’ll give us more time to look for Lev and Samuel!”

    “But isn’t security already taking care of that?” she reminded me. “They already found the bomb that was supposed to blow the Who into pieces, so aren’t we supposed to forget about it?”

    “Jules told me that they were only searching for the bombs. They said security didn’t tell them that they would actually go after Lev and Samuel. Or at least security didn’t imply of searching for those bastards.”

    “Well . . . I guess that would make sense. They wouldn’t look through the whole crowd to look for them.”

    “Exactly!” I pointed out. “That’s why we should step on it and look for them before they do anything.”

    “You’re right,” Maddie agreed. “But first, we gotta prepare ourselves for the storm that’s coming our way. We’re gonna need some of our stuff to look for Lev and Sam for the rest of this trip.”

    Right away, Jules, Maddie, and I started to pack the stuff we didn’t need for the rest of the stay at Woodstock and try to come up ways to protect our bags from the rain. I didn’t think that the thunderstorm would be that bad, but when the rain started to pour down on all of us, I was greatly overwhelmed. For three long, dreadful hours, nothing else happened while the rain was pounding down on us. During that time, Maddie held onto me and would not let go until the rain had finally started to calm down, and eventually end at around 6:30 P.M. I almost fell asleep during the storm, but Maddie worked to make sure that Jules and I wouldn’t doze off and accidentally sleep in the mud that we had in our tents.

    We ate dinner, or lunch for me after the rain had finally settled down. Dinner or lunch or even breakfast wasn’t really anything big to eat at this point in the festival; all we had left to eat was crackers, some foreign type of cheese Jules brought, two chocolate bars, a can of soup, and a bit of bread. I had not looked at a mirror since we left Brooklyn, but I guaranteed myself that I had lost a bit of weight. The thought of it made me nervous since I was already skinny enough and I had promised myself months ago that I would start gaining some weight. My eating habits at Woodstock haven’t been helping the situation at all.

    It was seven o’clock before we began our final hunt for Lev and Samuel. When we finished getting ready and got our bags together, we stepped out of the tent to see that people were starting to leave the festival.

    “Perfect,” said Jules. “Maybe it’ll be easier for us to find them.”

    “Hopefully,” Maddie added.

    Before we could continue any further on our quest, Jules heard themselves step on something and looked down to see that there was a crumpled up piece of paper underneath their shoe. They paused and carefully picked it up, shaking off the mud that stained it. When they opened it up, this message was written on the paper:

 

    _Meet us in front of the stage in the next couple of hours if you want to come get us. We would love to be your last fight ever._

 

― _L + S_

 

    “We should move now,” Jules commanded. “We have to stop them as early as we can.”

    “Got it,” Maddie and I said in unison.

    Just like yesterday’s adventure, or this morning, we walked around the entire area in search of Lev and Samuel. Inch by inch, foot by foot, we looked everywhere, and even beyond the limits of the six hundred acres of the festival. By four in the morning, there was no luck for us. To end the search, we walked back to the cave in which they camped in before we showed up.

    In this sort of situation, I would feel very anxious about not being able to find Lev and Samuel, but part of me was beginning to believe that the authorities had caught them. I talked about it with Jules and Maddie and they told me they were starting to think about the same thing as well. It sort of comforted me, to know that I was definitely not alone in this. We were all in this together in this hell of a journey.

    When we arrived at the cave for the second and final time, we went inside and looked around to see if they had left anything important behind. We looked under rocks, checked the desk that still stood; we looked everything and didn’t find anything that would lead us directly to them. All we knew was that we were all suppose to meet with them nearby the stage for one final to have yet another fight with them. For the past few hours, we hadn’t heard any unusual sounds or screams or signs that something drastic happened. Therefore, all three of us finally concluded that Lev and Samuel had been arrested. That was it. Their reign of terror had come to an end, just like how this decade was about to be.

    “Well,” Jules smiled, “I think we did it, kids. They won’t terrorize anyone no more.”

    “Thank God!” I cheered. “Who knows what could’ve happened if we didn’t find this cave in the place. I think Maddie might have actually saved this whole festival!”

    “I can’t take all the credit now!” she chuckled. “You two helped out a bunch, too! Seriously, if Jules ignored that first letter that was sent to their apartment in the first place, Roger Daltrey would be six feet under the ground right now.”

    “You’re right!” Jules agreed. “I think we all did a―”

    Jules froze up and looked frightened and shocked.

    “Jules,” I whispered to them. “What’s the―”

    “Shh, do you hear that?” they asked us. “Be quiet and listen. I think I hear something.”

    Maddie and I shut up and listened carefully for the sound that Jules said sounded like a beep. For a couple of seconds, we couldn’t detect any strange sounds or see anything out of the ordinary. Then, all of the sudden, I could hear a faint beeping noise and my jaw dropped.

    “I hear beeping,” I whispered. “Is that a―”

    “It’s gotta be a bomb,” Jules interrupted me. “It just has to be.”

    Jules commanded us to get out of the cave immediately and search for the bomb before it exploded. Luckily, it was hidden in one of the bushes that were nearby the cave, so we didn’t have to look for very long. Even though I knew that it could kill me instantly, I felt fearless when I locked my eyes on the timer, which glowed red and read that the explosive would self-destruct in under three minutes time. I could tell that Maddie wanted to get far away from the bomb as possible when she handed me the tools to disable the bomb right away. I was actually excited to deactivate a bomb with my own hands until Jules suggested me that it would be safer if they carried out the task. I frowned for a moment, but then passed the tools to them to let them handle the job. Perhaps they were right about it. I probably would’ve cut the wrong wire and accidentally commit a murder-suicide on this last day of Woodstock. Maybe I wouldn’t have, but the world will never really know. Things probably worked out differently in a parallel universe.

    After sawing the correct wire in half, the numbers on the clock had disappeared; Jules had successfully deactivated a bomb at five in the morning. We all smiled and looked at each other in a cheerful manner. But before I could start speaking, someone kicked me in the back of my head and caused me to drive my face into the tree. I fell facing my back to the ground, screaming and cursing in agony. When I looked up, I saw Lev looking down at me while she placed her boot harshly on my chest. I almost started crying when I turned my head and saw that Lev was holding Jules had gunpoint and Samuel was holding back Maddie, covering her mouth with his goblin-like hand. When I took a closer look, I saw that Maddie was crying. I fell silent for a bit while I allowed my tears to fall.

    “Get your hands off of her you fucking creep!” I growled at him.

    When I said that, Lev aimed her gun near my head and shot a bullet into the dirt near my head, making me scream in terror.

    “Say shit one more time and you’re done for!” she yelled at me, aiming the gun back at Jules and giving them a malicious stare. “Or perhaps, if you want to live, you can earn your freedom with a sacrifice of a friend.”

    “I would never!” I talked back. “And I would rather die in peace than continue to suffer in this hell of a life!”

    “Is that what you’re asking for?! To die underneath my boot like a bug would? You are a sad man if you think so!”

    She pressed her foot harder on my chest, making it harder for me to breathe. I coughed a bit and sneezed, oozing some blood out of my nose.

    “There are many things I actually wanna do in my life!” I croaked. “But some days I felt that I would never be able to do them, and you’re probably the reason why. You might be the reason I’m going to die before I turn twenty!”

    “Nonsense!” she shouted. “You choose to end your life like this! Have you not heard? Curiosity is what gets a cat and people killed! Now, say goodbye!”

    Before Lev could aim the gun at me and shot, Jules punched Lev on the side of the head and caused her to fall to the ground, dropping the gun somewhere on the ground. Samuel pushed Maddie away from him in an attempt to attack Jules, but I quickly got up off the ground and tackled him like I had done the first time during the first visit. While Jules went to go knock out Lev, Maddie and I were fighting Samuel by the pond. Because he was putting in more effort than he was last time, it was incredibly hard for us to get Samuel onto the ground. We wrestled him for a few good minutes until Jules showed up and we allowed them to have a turn with him. The feud didn’t last very long when Jules threw him down to the ground and kicked him to knock him unconscious.

    “Okay,” Jules panted. “I’m gonna be right back, I’m gonna run and get help! Stay here and watch them!”

    “We will!” Maddie promised.

    Jules ran off as we walked back to the small area where Lev was laying down. There was a pretty good chance that Samuel was going to be out for awhile, but I wasn’t so sure about Lev. Then again, Jules knocked her out hard so I wasn’t too worried about her doing anything to us. I was also sure that one of us had thrown the gun away in the pond to where none of them would be able to retrieve it.

    “We did it, Scottie,” Maddie spoke softly to me, holding my hand. “We actually did it.”

    “I’m . . . I’m glad it’s over,” I stuttered. “I really thought I was gonna die right there. I’m gonna cry again just thinking about it.”

    Maddie hugged me tightly, rubbing my back with her hand.

    “It’s okay, Scottie,” she cooed. “It’s all over. This nightmare is all over, and soon we’ll be going back to Brooklyn. Life will go back to normal as soon as we get back there. I know it will.”

    A tear rolled down my eye but I smiled in hope for the future. I looked at Maddie for a moment and then gave her a gentle kiss. After we finished kissing, she stopped hugging me and separated herself from me. She smiled for a second or two until we heard a gunshot and Maddie fell back on the ground displaying a look of horror on her face. I didn’t know what was going on with her until I saw the unthinkable and gasped in horror. Maddie’s abdominal area was covered in blood and she had a small hole in her skin; she had been shot. When I turned my head around, I almost screamed when I saw that Lev was pointing a gun at me. She was about to shoot me as well until some concert-goers charged in and tackled her, pinning her to the ground and grabbing the gun from her. Jules followed and was horrified as well when they saw Maddie on the ground dying.

    I fell on my knees and so did Jules. I took Maddie into my arms to comfort her in her dying moments, trying my best to hold back my tears.

    “Scottie,” she said quietly, “why are you not crying?”

    “I don’t want you to see me like that, Maddie,” I sniffled. “I want you to remember me as a tough guy.”

    “I don’t want to remember that . . . I . . .”

    She paused for a bit, which made me almost lose it until she had her fingers touch my jaw.

    “Look at me . . .” she murmured. “Please grieve for me. I want . . . I want to know that you do care as I pass. You’re not weak for crying either. You have a very . . . very good reason to.”

    “Bu-but aren’t you afraid?!” I wept. “I-I-I-I just can’t imagine dying at this age, Je-Jesus Christ.”

    “I’m not. I’ve expected this. Life isn’t . . . isn’t fair sometimes. And I’m . . . sure my death will help you realize something.”

    “Realize what?!”

    “That . . . that . . .  this world has never been beautiful. It will never be, Scottie. Not in the past, not now, not . . . not even in the future.”

    At that point, I didn’t care about how I was reacting. I was sobbing and felt emotionally messier than I ever had in my entire life. Slowly, Maddie drew her hand away from my jaw and laid it down on her chest. With the last of her dying breath, she said her goodbyes to us.

    “Goodbye, Jules . . . goodbye, Scottie. You two will do great in the world . . .”

    With that, she was gone. At 5:44 A.M. on August 18, 1969, in Bethel, New York, Madison “Maddie” Hiltz had passed away at one of the most peaceful events in the history of mankind.


	9. Jules and Scottie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: Mentions and imagery of death.
> 
> This chapter features Jules and Scottie's POVs.
> 
> This is the final chapter of the 60s arc in Glorious Americans.

    Lev de Campo was finally captured and arrested at Woodstock on that fatal day in August of 1969. Samuel, on the other hand, didn’t want to be held responsible for anything that Lev had done. Thus, he fled the festival a moment or two after she killed Maddie. To this day, nobody truly knows where he ran off to, but it was rumored that he had decided to ditch his villainous past and return to Scotland, where he lived a quiet life. I thought that it was cowardly of him to run off and do such a thing, but then again, he might not have wanted to associate himself with Lev in the first place. I will never know for sure; none of us knew his story, and I don’t think we ever will. Maybe the same applies to Lev, but Scottie could recall her showing no remorse when she shot Maddie. We will never comprehend their feelings for humanity.

    Scottie and I returned to Brooklyn that same day, a few hours after Maddie’s death. None of us said a word to each other; Scottie appeared to be traumatized by everything that just happened to him, so I didn’t bother him during the trip back home. The long, chilling silence continued when we arrived back at our apartment complex and started to unload our stuff. I was about to grab Maddie’s bags for her, but then I remembered that we had left them at Woodstock for the police to collect them and send it to her family back home. That was when the pain returned to me and I almost started crying in the parking lot, but then Scottie came back to me and lead me to my apartment. For the rest of the day, we wept, talked about our favorite memories of Maddie, and watched _The Andy Griffith Show_ in her honor. We tried to enjoy the things she loved, but Scottie remained on edge for the whole day. He could bear being alive; everything reminded him of her and it pained him so much, especially since they were dating. It wasn’t for very long obviously, but he promised her that they would have a future together. He wasn’t so sure about getting married, but he could see himself spending the rest of his life with her. I believed in what he said.

    We stayed in Brooklyn for a little while until we flew to Florida two days later to stay in Pensacola, Maddie’s hometown. They were holding her funeral at St. Paul’s Catholic Church, where she used to attend mass until she graduated high school. Neither of us was a religious person of some sort, but this was our last chance to say goodbye to her. Scottie was terrified of corpses too, but he had to face his fear in order to see Maddie one last time. I thought he was dedicated; it seemed like he would do anything for her, whether she was alive or not.

    It was quite an awkward experience when we introduced ourselves to Maddie’s family at the visitation the next day on the 21st of August. Only some of them had known Scottie before from Maddie’s letters or from her conversations she had with them last winter break, but they gave me strange looks when they asked who I was.

    “Oh, I was her good friend and neighbor,” I informed them. “We lived next door to each other.”

    “I remember now,” her mother recalled. “She talked about you in a few letters, but she definitely had a lot to say about this young man.”

    She pointed to Scottie and he smiled, trying to remain positive.

    “Yeah,” he laughed awkwardly. “We . . . we actually started dating while at Woodstock. It didn’t last for long though . . .”

    “Well, I’m sorry for bringing that up,” she apologized. “It’s okay to cry, that’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?”

    As expected, Scottie excused himself to go to the bathroom. On his way there, I turned around and saw him starting to cry.

    “Sorry,” I brought my voice down to a whisper. “They were so, so close together. And that was one of the last things she said to him.”

    “Oh, my!” Maddie’s mother gasped. “I had no idea!”

    “No, no, it’s okay. It’s been hard on all of us I’m pretty sure.”

    She nodded in agreement, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe away a few oncoming tears. Suddenly, I realized what was wrong with this gather: Maddie’s father wasn’t present. When I asked Maddie’s mother why he wasn’t attending the service, she gave me an unexpected answer. Earlier this year, back in January, Maddie’s father had passed away after he had a heart attack. Scottie and I had no idea that he had died, but then I remembered that Maddie had a strained relationship with her father. They were exact opposites and would fight a lot about political issues. When she was younger, he would often pick on her for her appearance and bully her whenever she did something he hated. All of these things would encourage her to hate her father and eventually punch him. At the time of their deaths, I was sure that they still despised each other.

    Things got tougher for Scottie when we attended the funeral the following day. For one thing, the weather was still a bit hot for us to wear black. Of course, I was used to the heat since I had previously lived in Texas and California. Scottie had lived in the North his whole life, so the heat and sticky humidity had made it unbearable for him to deal with. Even while we were inside for the entire ceremony, Scottie told me he could still feel the heat linger onto him. Aside from the tropical weather, he almost broke down during the funeral. At the burial service when it was time for us to toss the roses into the casket, he couldn’t help but sob when it was his turn to place his rose on top of her casket. Right after he had tossed it in her grave, he ran to me and I embraced him in my arms, literally giving him a shoulder to cry on.

    “I miss her so damn much, Jules,” he sobbed. “I wish she was still here.”

    “I do, too,” I sniffed. “You’re not alone in this.”

    Scottie didn’t say anything else to me but cried for the rest of the service. After it was done and over with, we went back to the hotel to began to pack up for our flight back to Brooklyn. We returned home the next day in the evening time after two long flights. The journey back left us a bit drained, so we didn’t speak to each other again for a few hours afterward. When I got back to my apartment, the first thing I did was check to see if I had received any mail. I almost had a heart attack for a second when I found an envelope with no return address on it, but when I had opened it up, it was only a letter from my sister-in-law. In it, she talked about recent life events, such as my niece Maria entering her last year of high school, her job, the usual that went on. However, I almost started crying again for the hundredth time this week when she mentioned what happened back at Woodstock. _I heard about it on the news,_ she wrote to me _I’m incredibly sorry for your loss, Jules. I’m sure Maddie was a very nice girl to be friends with. It’s okay to cry, but don’t forget the good times, too._

* * *

 

I cried myself to sleep that very night after we got back to Brooklyn. Even though all of this was giving me a massive headache, I couldn’t help but continue to mourn my late girlfriend. It was still hard for me to believe that she was gone. I had already forgotten that I had attended her funeral, that I had broken down at her burial, that she was buried back in Florida. She didn’t seem like the kind of person who would be dead. In my heart, I knew she was watching me from a distance from wherever she was now. I still had a fuzzy feeling about the concepts of Heaven and Hell, but if Heaven were real, I hope that she had made it there. If it were real, I hoped to go there so that we would be together forever.

    " _I'll see you soon, Maddie,_ " I thought.

    While I didn’t think so much about suicide, I began to contemplate my existence, just a few days before I would go back to college. Since Maddie passed away, not only had I plunged back into a depression, but I started to think over the course of my life again. Whether I was at my job or at my apartment, I repeatedly questioned myself this: what am I going to do now? I know I wanted to become a film director or something along the lines, but I wasn’t quite sure about where I was gonna go to after college. I didn’t felt comfortable living in Brooklyn anymore, not that I hated it now, but living here reminded me of Maddie and it often made me upset. Of course, I didn’t want to move immediately, but I wanted an idea of where to go to after graduating college. I wanted to seek new opportunities for myself, to see if people were interested in my work. Not only was I desperate to work as a film director, but I wanted to carry out my own mission: to tell my life story. I also promised myself that I would start on Maddie’s mission as soon as I can: to show the future generations how terrible the world really was in my day.

    My name is Scott Marnon. I was born into a world of fear, which I still live in. While I still don’t know where I’m going from here, I know for certain that this won’t be a normal journey for any of us.


	10. Isaac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: imagery of self-harm, drinking, and attempted suicide; mentions of alcohol, drugs, abuse, rape, and death.
> 
> This chapter starts the 70s arc, Seventh Summer. It introduces our new protagonists, Isaac Jones and Jeong Ara.

    I found myself lying in the bathtub when I woke up early this morning. There wasn’t any water in the tub and I was fully clothed, so I was a bit freaked out by this. My memory seemed foggy too, that was until I started to recall what happened last night. I had gotten drunk by myself, which was a rare occurrence. I’m not implying that I party a lot, but I usually don’t drink a lot. I could understand why people would enjoy alcohol, but for me personally, it left a nasty after-taste in my mouth. Besides hating the taste of it, nowadays I would often get uncomfortable when around drunk people. Unless it was someone close to me, I tried to distance myself from the situation. However, I couldn’t recall why I got drunk last night in the first place, but I do remember why I try my hardest to keep sober.

    When I first came to America from Guatemala, I was a very shy boy in school for as long as I could remember. Other kids would invite me to play with them but at first, I declined their offers because I wasn’t really sure how to make friends. Thankfully in middle school, I decided to crawl out of my shell and try to connect with my peers. I was successful and soon I earned popularity, which would continue into high school. A lot of guys were jealous of me since I attracted girls easily, but it wasn’t just my looks that made them love me. The girls would often say that I was open-minded and that I had a mind that was just as beautiful as my looks. I agreed with what they said about me, not that I was hungry for attention, but it was a personality trait that I have valued so much throughout my life. Guys would often come to me for advice on how to get some chicks; for one thing, I thought of myself as a bad advice giver, and on the other hand, I wanted them to piss off and leave me alone.

    "Maybe if you weren't such a creep, girls would actually like you," I told a guy once.

    No, my popularity wasn’t why I decided to stay sober. Now it may have influenced me a bit, but it’s not the sole reason. Sometime in the first quarter of my sophomore year, people began to invite me to their parties. My guts felt uneasy and were telling me not to go, but because of my poor judgment, I couldn’t help but say yes. At my first party, I didn’t really engage in any risky behaviors but it was then I had discovered that I was attracted to boys just like with girls. Hell, I thought a lot of people were gorgeous. While nothing major happened to me that night, I shared my first kiss with my now ex-boyfriend, who I had forgotten about until now. It felt wrong for some reason; I didn’t think that kissing another man was wrong or “sinful,” but my gut was at it again and felt queasy about him. I dismissed the feeling but would regret it much later.

    I appeared at another party held by a different person a few weeks later. The person in charge of it turned out to be a girl who was considered an outsider. Well, maybe not an outsider, but she wasn’t well known within the popular cliques. Therefore, the only people that would show up to her parties were her small group of friends. However, it changed drastically when I showed up. Again, nothing happened since it was a small gathering, but I still enjoyed it. We swam in her pool, drank a few beers, and had some interesting conversations. Nothing wild happened, but I cherished it. In fact, I wished that there were more parties like that when I was in high school but there never was again. After the word of me attending that party had spread, more and more people decided to show up at her house for parties. The girl began to hold a big and wonderful reputation among the preps, but that was the good thing that came out of it. My downfall had begun when I arrived at another one of her parties.

    Since more people from school started showing up, they decided to bring in more alcohol and all sorts of drugs. Some of them weren’t so hard, others were. Peer pressure was also prevalent, which lead me to smoke my first blunt. For my first time, it didn’t really have a great effect on me, except I was famished and ended up cooking a whole pizza for myself that night. Needless to say, it was an okay experience which I will remember forever. From that moment on, I would almost always attend parties whenever I could. My boyfriend then, the same boy that I had kissed at my first party, would also come along and passionately make out with me before the both of us got high. This continued well into the beginning of my junior year. Over the course of the year, I had experimented with several types of drugs, but I stuck with smoking dope and would get drunk whenever I felt like it. There were times when I felt like quitting drugs, but since it didn’t affect my school life that much and boosted my popularity, I didn’t stop. Then, the unthinkable happened.

    "Just who the hell do you think you are?" my boyfriend snapped at me once.

    Before the incident happened, I did notice that my boyfriend had been aggressive towards me a few times, perhaps he was borderline abusive. However, my judgment still wasn’t the best and I wasn’t concerned about it. As long as he didn’t beat me, I was fine with him pushing me around. Of course, this only grew worse. In November of 1972, a couple of days before Thanksgiving, my boyfriend decided to throw a party and he forced me to join. For the first time in my life, I felt violated and wasn’t sure what to do about it. To avoid harassment, I made myself smoke a blunt and got drunk all at once. I didn’t regret this decision until two hours later when I felt nauseous and was spacing out. Eventually, my mind was starting to get foggier as time progressed. The last thing I could remember before I blacked out was going upstairs to my boyfriend’s room while he yelled at me from behind. When we got to his room, he slammed the door shut and shoved me onto the bed. My mind was a blur for the rest of the night. I couldn’t recall much of what happened but I could remember that I was crying. My boyfriend was choking me too, but it wasn’t why I passed out. To this day, I still can’t remember when I exactly passed out, but I was horrified to learn what happened to me the next morning.

     I woke up that morning in a room that was foreign to me at first, but I slowly realized that I was lying down on my friend Catherine’s bed. I almost panicked when I thought I was going to be late for school, but then I remembered that we were on Thanksgiving break and calmed down. When I got out of the bed, I realized that I had fewer clothes on than I did last night. I was dressed in a tank top and had boxers on, which weirded me out even more since they weren’t my clothes either. I was about to leave the room until Catherine and her boyfriend Anthony entered the room with Catherine carrying a plate of eggs and toast. She gasped at me and put down the plate on her nightstand.

    “You’re okay!” she smiled as she walked up to hug me.

    “You have some bruises but at least you’re alive,” Anthony remarked. “You were passed the hell out when we saved you back there.”

    I didn’t understand what he was talking about. After Catherine was done hugging me, she went back to the nightstand to retrieve the eggs.

    “What do you mean?” I said with a puzzled look on my face. “What happened last night?”

    “You . . . you don’t remember?” Catherine mumbled.

    “No, not really. I was out of it last night. I think I was crying at one point.”

    I paused for a second, trying to think.

    “Maybe it’ll come back to me,” I guessed. “But yeah, I have no clue what happened.”

    Catherine was about to answer my question, but she started tearing up before she could say a word or two about last night. She almost let out a cry until Anthony and I gathered around her and gave her a group hug. She calmed down immediately, but still looked pretty upset about it.

    “Sorry,” she apologized, “it reminded me of what happened to my sister.”

    I was close to Catherine then but wasn’t close enough to know what happened to her elder sister who passed away years ago. Before I could resume the conversation, she asked Anthony if he could explain to me what happened to me Sunday night. Though he seemed upset about the situation, he agreed to it. All three of us sat on the bed as Catherine passed me my plate. I thanked her for the food and chowed down while I listened to what Anthony had to say.

    “So, uh . . .” he mumbled. “I don’t know if you remember but Cathy and I were at the party last night too.”

    “Oh yeah, I definitely remember that,” I nodded. “But what happened?”

    Anthony looked down and frowned, but went on.

    “We heard you scream when we went inside the house,” he recalled. “I thought it was some random drunk guy laughing but Cathy said it was coming from Jimmy’s room.”

    “Oh yeah, my boyfriend’s room. I remember going in there,” I said, still trying to remember what went on that night. “So what happened?”

    “Well, he  . . . he . . .”

    Anthony paused again and looked at me dead in the eye before revealing this dreadful truth.

    “Jimmy raped you,” he confessed. “He almost choked you to death too, but we got in there just in time to beat the hell outta him.”

    I glanced at my toast for a moment, trying to register what Anthony had said to me. _This didn’t really happen, didn’t it?_ I thought to myself. _It can’t happen to me._

    “No,” I denied. “It didn’t happen. Please tell me this didn’t happen, I’m begging you.”

    Catherine picked up her handheld mirror from the nightstand and handed it to me. When I was able to see my reflection, I nearly gasped at the sight of my throat. A variety of bruises were all over my throat, and when I checked my arms, I found a few more. By now, I was on the verge of crying.

    “I don’t understand why he would do this,” I wept. “He wasn’t even beating me or anything before this happened.”

    “But Isaac,” Catherine joined in, “he would push you around and be aggressive toward you. Didn’t you feel afraid because of that?”

    “I did.”

    “Well, he was still hurting you,” Anthony replied. “Sure he wouldn’t lay a hand on you before last night, but he was still a shady guy.”

    I nearly broke down in tears that very morning when I thought back on my relationship with Jimmy. _I wish I wasn’t so blind,_ I thought. _Why didn’t I do anything?_ After Catherine and Anthony took care of me that morning, they gave me back the clothes I had on the night before. Catherine had also let me borrow one of her scarves so that I could hide the bruises that were on my neck. When we were all done, Anthony drove us and dropped me off at my house at eleven in the morning. Before he drove away, I thanked him and Catherine for saving and watching over me. The two thanked me as well and told me to stay safe once they starting driving down the street.

    Ever since that day, I had given up drugs forever and tried to not drink as much since being drunk enabled me to remember my trauma. I never pressed charges against Jimmy since I was scared of causing drama, but luckily for me, he was expelled for trying to sell narcotics on school grounds. Since then, I had not heard a word from him and hoped to God that we would never cross paths again. I thanked God every day for being able to live in peace, but later on, I didn’t know that night would have a great long-term effect on me. While I promised myself I wouldn’t do any illicit drugs, I started smoking. Of course, I wasn’t hooked and smoking two packs a day like a couple of elderly people would, but I didn’t know how to cope well enough. For some days, I would feel awfully depressed and felt that there was nothing I could do to move on. Lastly, I was beginning to act much more sexual; I didn’t feel loved by anyone at all unless I pleased them, and it was difficult for me to tell who genuinely enjoyed my company or not. For the rest of high school, I felt dreadful and hopeless.

    " _I'm just a toy, that's all,_ " I thought, constantly degrading myself.

    Life started to get better after I graduated from Naperville Central High School in June of 1974. I moved to Chicago in order to attend the University of Chicago, which had been my dream school since I was eleven. Since I had worked over the past two summers, my tuition costs were out of the way and that lifted some weight off my shoulders. I was also pretty pumped about starting college because it meant I was finally able to take up my field of study: psychology. The subject itself was still fairly new to the world, but it didn’t stop me from wanting to become a therapist. Originally, I thought about becoming a homicide detective but after some quick thinking, I decided to not pursue the career since I was still disgusted and fearful at the sight of blood and dead bodies. I settled on becoming a therapist instead, hoping that I could still help others someday.

    From that point on when I started my first year of college, I only hoped that life would continue to get better as time passed. It did, but at the same time, it didn’t. My depression would flare up randomly and caused me to fall behind in school. I tried my hardest to keep up with my grades; I would earn a B in my psychology course, but in everything else, I would fall to a C or high D. It brought me panic and misery, but I wasn’t so sure how to fix them. I attempted to work on extra credit assignments that were assigned to me but all of them were left unfinished. I still had my good days, but I didn’t know where or who to turn to. That was until I made a lifelong friend the next year.

    I was very close to becoming homeless in February of 1975. My job was well-paying but the landlord held a personal grudge against me. To this day, I still don’t know why she did. She was a stubborn and greedy landlord for one thing; that pretty much explained why rent was so expensive. Eventually, I became so behind on rent that she sent me an eviction notice. I begged her for one last chance, but she did not care and only gave me a three days’ notice to pack up and leave. At that moment, I had nowhere to go and accepted the fact that I was going to be homeless. This nearly drove me to suicide since I couldn’t figure out a solution. Before I decided to take my life that night, I thought it would be appropriate for me to visit the bar to have one last drink or two to ruin myself even more.

    During my third hour at the bar, a young man sat down next to me but talked to the bartender for a couple of minutes. I didn’t really recognize him at first; his hair was brown and wavy and barely touched his shoulders. His nose was long and thin, and he had a sharp jawline. From a certain angle, you could see his cheekbones. He was quite skinny in his overall appearance, but he had a pleasant voice. It sounded a bit androgynous for his appearance, but the tone was still quite masculine.

    “What about you man?” he turned to me, taking a sip of his beer. “What brought you here? I’ve never seen you before.”

    I stared at a random table in the distance, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

    “Shit happens,” I mumbled. “I don’t really go to bars, but I figured I wanted one last drink before I get thrown out of my apartment.”

    “You poor thing. What for?”

    I stopped talking for a few seconds, thinking about the question he just asked me.

    “My landlord is a bitch,” I complained. “I always paid my rent on time, but she hates me for no damn reason. I got an eviction notice two days ago so I’m about to become homeless.”

    “Is that even legal?” he slightly raised his voice.

    “I don’t know. I don’t really care now. I might as well die of alcohol poisoning before I go home.”

    I let out a hoarse, drunken laugh. Neither the bartender or the man seemed amused, rather they looked concerned. Since I was drunk, I didn’t take any matters seriously and I wasn’t very well aware of how my comments affected others. After I had downed another drink or two, I excused myself to go use the restroom. I didn’t realize how intoxicated I was until I had almost passed out on the toilet while taking a piss. I was lucky though since I caught myself. Though I was well relieved, tears were starting to form in my eyes. When I was finished with my business, I waddled toward the sink and leaned against it. I looked up and saw that my forehead was touching the mirror, decorated with various fingerprints and graffiti sketches. It was then I allowed tears to roll down my cheeks. I didn’t make a noise for a good minute or two until my hard breathing progressed into a crying fit. I usually wasn’t this dramatic but on that night, I really thought I was about to hit rock bottom. I continued to cry, pulling out a razor blade from the pocket of my coat and proceeded to carve a few cuts into my skin.

    The first cut wasn’t the deepest one, but it felt painful enough and a trail of blood still oozed from the newly cut wound that was on my arm. There was then a second, third, and fourth wound. I was about to take my own life until the young man from earlier barged into the bathroom. I threw the bloody razor down on the tile floor and clumsily turned the sink knobs, washing away the blood once the water started running. The young man ran up to my side to see the damage I had done. My eyes met his and I trembled with guilt, but it felt strange too. He didn’t seem angry at all, but his face showed no remorse either. Well, to me at least. Perhaps he looked concerned, but my judgment was impaired then. The next thing I remembered was that he carefully picked the razor off the floor and tossed it in the garbage can. After that, he went into one of the stalls and came back out, his hands full of toilet paper. As I predicted, he wrapped it all around my arm and it immediately became soaked with blood. Just as I was about to cry again, a tear that was not mine dropped onto my arm. I looked at the man once again and found him quietly crying.

    “Please don’t do it again,” he begged. “I know I just met you but this just . . .”

    He attempted to finish his sentence, but his own tears overwhelmed him. I wanted to tell him that I was sorry for upsetting him, but I stood there unable to utter a word to him. Eventually, he was able to calm himself down and pick up where he left off.

    “I was like you once,” he whimpered. “Young and broke. Well, I didn’t get kicked out, but I was so tight on money then. I fell in love; those were the best three days of my life! Didn’t last for long though. She was taken away from me and oh boy, I wanted to die! I was too chicken to act on it, so I just wallowed in my own sadness. Yeah, it’ll get better, but I’ll never get her back!”

    When he was through with his dramatic speech, he started tearing up again, signaling that he was on the verge of another breakdown.

    “What are you talking about?” I croaked. “Who the hell are you?”

    “Scott Marnon!” he boasted. “I’m surprised you didn’t recognize me when I sat down next to you.”

    My face displayed a puzzled expression. _Just who is he?_ I asked myself. _Scott Marnon? More like Scott Moron. Just let me die you bastard._

    “What?” he snapped at me. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

    I remained silent and gave him the same look.

    “Listen, you’re wasting my time now,” he continued. “I’m just trying to help. If you want me to leave you alone just say something. Stop looking at me like I’m some kind of fucking alien.”

    “Please don’t,” I finally spoke. “I’m sorry. I’m sure I might have heard the name before. I’m just bad with faces.”

    I backed away from the sink until my back hit the wall. I slid down and sat on the cold tile floor. Scott joined in and sat down next to me, scrambling through the pockets of his coat. His hand produced a wallet and he unfolded it to pull out an old photograph. It wasn’t ancient, but the back of it stated that it was taken in August of 1969. He waved the film a bit before he handed it to me. The photo showed a young couple sleeping, holding each other close in a tent. The light in the photo was bright, so it was probably taken in the morning. Maybe it was the afternoon, I wasn’t too sure. I didn’t really recognize the subjects of the photograph until Scott handed me another photograph. It was a graduation photo from 1968; the man in that photo was the same man in the other photo. Everything started to click when I observed his face.

    The young man in both photos was Scott. His facial features were softer back then and his jaw wasn’t as sharp as it used to be. He kinda looked like a girl, but you could still tell that was him. His face looked familiar now, but I couldn’t remember what I’ve heard about him. I knew it was on the tip of my tongue, but I was struggling to recall what happened.

    “What happened?” I asked him.

    Scott stared at the sink before he gave me another answer. He reached into his wallet and pulled out what seemed to be a newspaper cut-out. He handed it to me and advised me to be careful when unfolding it. Again, it wasn’t too old or worn out like the photographs were, but I didn’t want to destroy his property already. With gentle care, I unfolded the cut-out which revealed itself to be the front page of a newspaper. It dated back to August 19, 1969, around Woodstock. Was it before or after? To answer my own question, I read the headline that was printed in colossal, bold letters. It read:

 

**LEV DE CAMPO CAPTURED AT WOODSTOCK**

 

    Everything was starting to come back to me then. Lev de Campo, from what I recalled, was one of the most notorious super villains in the 1960s, perhaps in all of modern history. She was from Italy and vowed that if she had to suffer, so did the entire world. Before the Woodstock incident, she carried out two other terrorist attacks in ‘64 and ‘67. They killed many people, but they didn’t hold the spotlight for long. When I resumed reading the newspaper cut-out, my eyes skimmed over a subtitle that refreshed my memory completely.

 

**Florida girl murdered on last day of Woodstock Festival**

 

    “Wait,” I said aloud. “You don’t mean—”

    “She was my girl,” he started to cry again. “Maddie was my girl . . .”

    Scott didn’t say anything else and sat there crying about his late girlfriend. He wasn’t as dramatic as me when he was crying, but I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose the person you loved. It must’ve hurt him even more than I could imagine; they were probably soulmates.

    “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. Marnon,” I apologized.

    “Don’t call me that,” he sniffled. “Just call me Scottie.”

    “Well, I’m sorry about your girlfriend, Scottie.”

    “It’s . . . I’ll be alright. It’s just one of those days.”

    Scottie got up off the floor and pulled me up after. Just as I guessed, he went back to one of the bathroom stalls to grab more toilet paper for my arm. Once he came out, he started treating my cuts again. My arm still bled a bit, but the toilet paper was enough at the moment. As he finished tucking in the final square of toilet paper, he spoke to me again.

    “Listen,” he said, “I know we just met, but you can stay at my place if you want. I’m not completely settled in because I just moved back here from Tokyo, but it’s nice and spacious.”

    I fixed my gaze on Scottie for a second before I looked down at my arm again. The offer sounded pleasant, but I couldn’t decide. I really needed a place to stay, but my trust issues were flaring up and told me that I needed to be cautious as well. But I wasn’t going to let myself die in the streets. At the end of the night, I accepted Scottie’s offer to stay with him. Together, the two of us went back to my apartment and packed up what was left. Near midnight, we officially left my old apartment and we made our way to his place. While there were still a couple of boxes here and there when we arrived, he had plenty of room in his house. I didn’t really see why he wanted to live in such an enormous house when he almost lived by himself, but I did agree that the interior design was amazing. It was undecorated then, but I liked the blue and white color scheme it had.

    Since that day, I owed Scottie my life. He also turned out to be a much kinder guy than I thought he was when I first met him. He seemed to be cocky at times, but he proved himself to be a modest man. At first, I thought he was overdramatic too, but he was only upset in that moment. He told me that he usually kept his cool and tried his best at staying optimistic. I knew being a total optimist was impossible, but I knew that he gave his all. I just knew that after that night, we were going to remain friends for God knows how long. But sometimes I had to remind myself that he wasn’t the only person that changed my life. Shortly after our first encounter, I met the love of my life: Jeong Ara.


	11. Jeong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: alcohol and alcohol mentions, and mention of death.

    For one thing, my recollection of past events may not be as accurate as I think they are. I’m either daydreaming by my window sill or stressed, spacing out, depersonalizing, all that jazz. Maybe not all the time, but I always had trouble differentiating what is and what isn’t real. That’s why I feel confused when waking up from my dreams. I ask myself: did any of that happened? For my whole life, I was ridden by nightmares, so I felt blessed that none of this things had happened to me in the real world. I did face hardships in the past, but I try my best now to live my life well.

    One of the better moments in my life recently was when I became a singer at a local nightclub. I still work there, but I felt quite alive at the beginning of my job. It felt exciting to be part of the disco scene and to be recognized for my talent. I wasn’t very sure about turning this profession of mine into a career. The idea of fame made me nervous. I mean, I like the attention I get from the audience at the club, but I wasn’t up for nation-wide fame. Besides, I was fed up with the bit of harassment I already faced from some of the club goers. They’re usually polite, but I wished that the middle-aged men would mind their business. They would walk up and try to ignite a conversation with me, but they often made me uncomfortable and I told them to piss off. A few refused to leave me alone, but they left once I threatened them with the police.

    My profession has had its ups and downs, the rude club-goers, gruesome work shifts, and creeps. But I kept my head up high and went on with the show. I considered quitting a few times, but the thought of it usually faded away. A time did come where I seriously contemplated on quitting for good, but April 19, 1975, had an unexpected turn for me that night. The place was busier than usual that evening and the manager called us all up to perform for the customers. I was tempted to call him back and make up an excuse for not going, but I backed down on it and left for work. When I arrived, I barged into backstage and rushed myself to put on my makeup. My makeup skills were sloppy that night, but I crossed my fingers, hoping that the crowd didn’t mind.

    When it was time for me to perform, I nearly gasped at the sight of the crowd. Every single seat in the building was occupied, with many other people on the dance floor to see me perform. A few people in the club were couples, there were young women here and there, and I spotted two young men at the bar, but middle-aged men were the majority of the crowd. For the first time in my life, I felt stage fright creeping up on me. I wasn’t going to back down at that moment, but I immediately knew that this performance was going to be one of my worst ones to date. But as long as beer bottles or anything wasn't thrown at me, I wouldn’t run off stage.

    I went on with the show, but it turned out exactly what I thought it would be: a disaster. My manager changed the setlist for me completely, so I had to wing it and was singing out of tune for most of the time. The younger people at the back of the club were booing me, while the older men were hollering insults. Some of them catcalled me, but I couldn’t escape the shitshow until my shift was over. I thought I wasn’t going to make it to the end since my mind sense that a panic attack was coming up. There was one moment where I almost broke down in front of the audience, but I quickly wiped my tears away when we took a break.

    At the end of it, I rushed to my dressing room and starting sobbing at my vanity set, ruining my makeup. My tears joined in with the remnants of my eyeliner and they rolled down my cheeks, forming tiny streams of black. I accidentally rubbed my eyes while crying and smudged my smokey grey eyeshadow, making me appear more tired than I already was. And there was my lipstick, or what was my lipstick. I had wiped most of it on my hand, which I used to wipe away my tears too, transforming myself into a clown. I avoided the mirror so that I wouldn’t have to face my hideous reflection. I ran a hand through my hair, breathed in and let out an exhausted exhale.

    “I’m such a big, fat fraud,” I cried, clenching a hand and slamming it on the table. “I wish I never came!”

    “At least you tried your hardest,” said an encouraging voice.

    I snapped my head around and saw two young men at the door that was only opened halfway. I recognized them, remembering that they were the same two men that were at the bar. The first guy at the door was somehow recognizable, but I couldn’t recall the name. He had a pale skin complexion and wavy chestnut hair that grazed his shoulders, and his cheekbones were just visible. He was quite skinny too. What caught my attention the most was his long, sharp nose. He already seemed to be nosy, but I didn’t want to make such quick judgments about him yet.

    “What do you want?” I raised my voice, shifting my body in his direction.

    “You sounded upset,” he said. “I thought my buddy Isaac and I could help.”

    Right after he said that his friend Isaac came from behind him and revealed himself, standing taller than him. He possessed a muscular built and visible cheekbones like his friend, only they were more defined than his, and his hair was the same shade of brown. They were just about the same person, except Isaac was tanner than his friend. He gave me an awkward smile and I gave him one back. I turned away from them and starting hovering my hands over the desk, searching for my makeup removal wipes. They were about to leave my room until I heard the door started closing, and I turned toward them again.

    “You two can stay!” I nearly raised my voice. “Sorry if I came off as rude. I’m just looking for my makeup wipes. Don’t wanna look like a clown, you know.”

    I laughed nervously, thinking that I messed up until they entered the room again.

    “Oh, it’s totally fine,” the white guy said. “We just wanted to stop by and say you did great.”

    “That was awful,” I objected, getting up from my seat and pacing around the room. “They changed it so suddenly and I didn’t even know half of the songs and— ugh! It was utter shit!”

    I felt pretty damn awful saying such a thing aloud, but the white guy only expressed sadness instead of concern or shock. I stopped walking when I saw that he parted his lips to say something else, but Isaac stepped into the conversation.

    “At least you tried,” he commented, “and didn’t quit.”

    I fixated my attention on him.

    “Well, you’re right about that,” I admitted, “but I did pretty terrible honestly.”

    “No, you didn’t! I mean, you slipped up a bunch but that isn’t your fault at all!”

    For a moment, I said nothing to the two. I thought about the words he just exchanged with me, analyzed them, and realized that he was right. I wasn’t a horrible singer like I had thought, but it was my manager who decided to change the setlist completely without warning. And the fact that he assumed that I knew what songs to perform without having the chance to practice and rehearse was complete bullshit. That’s when the thought of me quitting the job popped into my head.

    “Yeah, it’s not my fault,” I said. “But I just wanna quit now.”

    “What?!” Isaac blurted. “Why?”

    “Well, uh— God, I don’t know!” I sighed, sinking my head in one of my hands. “I love singing and all, but I can’t handle my boss anymore! But I don’t even know where to go if I quit.”

    “You don’t have to give up your singing career forever, Miss Ara,” the white guy said, pulling what seemed to be a business card out of his front pocket. He handed it to me and I accepted the card, looking at it immediately. It read THE MALLORY TAVERN.

    “The Mallory Tavern?!” I nearly hollered. “H-how?! That place is hard to get a job at unless you’re referred to by some influential figure!”

    “Oh! I forgot I haven’t introduced myself,” the white guy laughed awkwardly, ashamed of himself. “I’m Scott, Scott Marnon! My friend here is Isaac Jones.”

    Scott awkwardly folded his arm over Isaac’s shoulders, trying to look cool, but he ended blushing like an idiot. Isaac didn’t do anything but he looked just as embarrassed as his friend.

    “Isaac’s not really shy,” Scott stated, “he has a tough time opening up to people, but he’s one of the most outgoing people I know! Ain’t that right, Isaac?”

    Isaac shrugged, looking puzzled.

    “I mean, I guess,” he said. “Well, not really. I can talk to pretty much anyone, but I don’t know why I feel so nervous right now. It’s bothering me so much.”

    “Yeah, I get you,” I nodded. “I’m like that sometimes, but I don’t waste any time when I’m having fun. You know what I mean?”

    Both of them agreed with what I said. We said nothing else and looked around the room for a bit until Scott pulled his arm away from Isaac and checked the time on his watch. His thick eyebrows raised in a rapid motion.

    “Shit!” he cursed. “Isaac, we gotta go, it’s nearly midnight!”

    Scott quickly turned back to me.

    “Hey, it was nice chatting with you Jeong but we really gotta go!” he said as they started walking out the door. “Hopefully we could see you another time!”

    With that, they were gone in a flash. After our encounter that night, I returned to my apartment and went straight to bed. However, it was difficult for me to sleep late that night when I found myself thinking about the conversation that I had just hours ago at the nightclub. _Scott Marnon_ my mind echoed _Scott._ I knew I heard the name or seen it somewhere before, but I couldn’t remember when was the last time I heard of it. _Scott Marnon_ I thought to myself again _Who is he? Or who was he?_ Just one name kept me up all night, causing me to toss and turn all night. The thought of an unknown identity did nothing but made me anxious; I had to know who they were, where they have been, and what they have done. I couldn’t let it go, and I didn’t until the following Wednesday.

    I usually worked on Wednesdays, but today was a day off which I thanked God for. To celebrate, I went to one of my favorite bars in the area. Unknowingly, when I entered the building, they were there: Scott and Isaac. Both of them were having a chat with the bartender and seemed content. I wasn’t that surprised seeing them again, but it was unexpected of me to see them here on a Wednesday, a Wednesday especially. They didn’t see me come in since the bartender was distracting them, so I took a seat next to Isaac.

    “Hi,” I spoke with a warm smile, “how are you two?”

    Isaac gave me his attention as soon as he heard my voice, just to be sure he wasn’t hearing things. A bright pink blush filled his cheek but it disappeared in mere seconds.

    “I-I’m good.” he stuttered, then chuckling. “What brought you here?”

    “Well, this is my favorite bar. I come here all the time,” I said. “I mean, whenever I get to or want to. Like, I’m not an alcoholic or anything.”

    “Yeah, I get you. I never drink usually, only talk. I love people, except Nazis. They can all choke.”

    “Truer words have never been spoken!” Scott chimed in, now speaking to me. “And hi, Jeong! How are you? Have you got the chance to visit the Mallory Tavern?”

    “I’m doing well,” I replied, “and no, I haven’t really thought about it.”

    “Oh, it’s fine,” he reassured me, extending his arm to shake my hand. “It’s nice to meet you again though! I didn’t expect this.”

    “Me neither.”

    After Scott greeted me and shook my hand, he, Isaac, and I continued the conversation by talking about how our week was going. We were all busy as usual, and our lives were as normal as we wanted them to be. That’s when I decided to ask Scott about who he was.

    “So, Scottie,” calling him by the wrong name. “I mean, Scott. I—”

    “You can call me Scottie,” he said with an encouraging tone. “Calling me Scott makes me feel old. Anyway, what were you asking?”

    “Oh, uh,” I nearly forgot what I was going to ask until I backtracked my thoughts, remembering what my question was. “Oh, yeah. Who are you exactly?”

    “What do you mean? Depends on what you’re asking,” he clarified.

    “Like . . . like . . .” I left my sentence unfinished, unsure what I was going to say now.

    “Scottie,” Isaac addressed him, “I think what Jeong is trying to ask is what are you famous for. It’s been years, y’know?”

    “Yeah,” I agreed. “I mean, what Isaac said was right. Have I been living under a rock or something? Just who are you exactly?”

    Scottie and I exchanged eye contact for a few seconds before he looked back down at the table, his smile transforming into a frown. He didn’t appear to be depressed, but I knew he wasn’t sure how to answer my question. He brought his attention back to me, but his facial expression doesn’t change.

    “That I’ll have to answer in private,” Scottie mumbled. “It’s . . . something I try to forget. Let’s go back to me and Isaac’s place if you want.”

    Of course, I didn’t trust that answer since I only knew these guys for not even a week. I was about to decline the offer until Isaac stepped into the conversation again.

    “How ‘bout we just sit in the car instead, Scottie?” he suggested. “You know, just drive around town while you talk about it?”

    “Sure, sounds like a better idea anyway,” Scottie agreed, jingling his car keys in his pocket and gestured us to get up. “Alright, let’s go then.”

    All three of us left the bar while Scottie bid the bartender goodbye. As we approached the car, Scottie unlocked it and got into the driver’s seat, with Isaac in the passenger’s seat and me sitting in the back. We left the parking lot seconds later and started driving around the block before driving into town. I expected the conversation to start back up immediately after we left the bar, but before I knew it and checked my watch, we had been driving in complete silence for fifteen minutes.

    “Scottie?” I broke the silence. “Are ya alright?”

    He only glared back at me with a vague but desolate expression and sighed. Before he could pick up where we left off, he took a sharp left turn, pushing me toward the right and nearly slamming me into the car window. He muttered an apology.

    “Anyway,” he picked up, “what was it that you wanted to talk about?”

    “Who are you?” I said, slightly irritated by his forgetfulness.

    “Gimme a sec,” he requested, slowing down at the oncoming red light. He exhaled a tired sigh and appeared to be wiping a tear away from his eye. “Sorry, I just . . .”

    He left his sentence trailing, but when the red light flashed green, he started driving again and continued.

    “I was in love once,” he recalled. “Did you ever wanted to spend the rest of your life with someone? Even if you weren’t sure about getting married, you just felt like they were the one?”

    I said nothing and stared out the window, listening to whatever he was talking about.

    “Do you remember Woodstock?” Scottie asked.

     “I’ve heard of it,” I answered honestly.

    “I was there.”

    “Was it as peaceful as everyone said it was?”

    Scottie slammed on the breaks when he noticed that the car in front of us slowed down. The driver in front of us didn’t slow down so suddenly, so it seemed that he slammed the breaks on purpose.

    “Jesus Christ, Scottie, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Isaac spat.

    “I’m sorry,” he groaned.

    “Then what the fuck was that for?”

    “I-I don’t know. I’m just out of it today, man.”

    Isaac apologized to me for the inconvenience Scottie caused, but I told him that I didn’t mind it at all. When Scottie finally calmed down, he finally answered my previous question.

    “It wasn’t,” he said with a remorseful tone.

    “How come?” I questioned him, hinting that I desired a longer explanation.

    He turned the wheel to make a right turn into a busy street; I knew he was going to give me what I asked for. He was driving slowly now, and though his eyes were glued to the road, something else was on his mind.

    “People were everywhere,” he began to remember. “Everyone, everything was a mess. We packed our own food but we were short by the third day. And holy hell, it just wouldn’t stop raining!” He produced gestures with his free hand while retelling his story. It sounded like he was about to cry too, but he took a deep breath and exhaled. You could still hear the sadness in his voice, however. “But that wasn’t the worst thing about it. On that last day, I lost the things I valued the most.”

    “And what was that?” I wondered.

    “It . . . one of them was my girl. I loved Maddie more than anything in my whole life. I’ll never forget the small heaven we shared. And now I just live in hell every day.”

    “But what happened? Did she cheated on you?”

    “God no. Even worst,” he was croaking now.

   “But what?”

    Once traffic grew worse and we were able to stop for a few minutes, Scottie rested his forehead on the handle of the wheel and sobbed quietly. Isaac and I sat there for a good minute, not knowing what to do to help until Isaac reached out and firmly grasped his shoulder, trying to comfort and distract him from the emotional pain he wanted to keep repressed. Though Isaac gave his friend a worried look, Scottie began to calm down but was still too upset to even bother continuing his story. While stuck in this traffic jam, Isaac told me the rest.

    “His girlfriend passed away,” he quietly told me. “She was shot by this . . . woman from Italy. Lev? Yeah, Lev de Campo. They arrested her, but her sidekick ran away or something. But he never did anything, so they didn’t bother to catch him. But yeah . . .”

    “Oh, Scottie,” I said, rubbing his shoulder to comfort him, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

    He turned his head and saw me, appearing to have stopped crying but his face was stained by trails of tears.

    “It’s . . . fine I guess,” he sighed. “I know you didn’t know this before, but it’s still so traumatizing for me. But I doubt you would understand.”

    “No,” I objected. “I’ve been there. I’m really sorry though.”

    He kept staring back at me but lifted my hand off his shoulder. After that, he finally stopped exchanging eye contact with me and thanked Isaac for taking care of the matter. We said nothing after we broke free from the traffic jam, only hearing silence and the noises from within the city. Despite how that conversation went, as Scottie and Isaac were dropping me off at my apartment complex, Isaac stepped out of the car for a second and gave me slip of paper. Before I had the chance to look at it, he lightly tapped on my shoulder and gestured his hand to pretend that he was on the phone.

    “C-call me if you want!” he suggested, as he sat back down in the passenger seat and slammed the door shut.

    They sped away right after, leaving me to wonder as I walked back to my apartment. I unfolded the piece of paper on my way there, seeing that he had jotted down a phone number. _Is he interested in me already?_ I thought. Regardless of what I thought, I made two new friends that day. Well, probably just one. I wasn’t quite sure if Scottie and I were on good terms. We weren’t necessarily enemies then or anything, but I was sure then that he felt bitter towards me for a while. He knew I didn’t know him personally, but then again he acted kinda cocky. Or narcissistic, I couldn’t really tell. I didn’t want to act rudely toward him. Then again, his girlfriend dying and him receiving national publicity from it didn’t give him the excuse to act so highly. Besides, what had he accomplished? And what else did he lost besides his girlfriend?

    Time flew by again after that day. Nothing eventful happened for one whole year, except Isaac dropped out of college. I was disappointed with him at first until Scottie explained to me that dropping out was for the sake of Isaac’s health.

    “But he just seems so smart,” I opposed. “I don’t understand.”

    “I honestly wished I dropped out,” Scottie admitted as we were walking to the cafe one time. “I couldn’t though. Jules would’ve probably killed me.”

    “Were you like Isaac? Like, did you had the same condition?”

    “I still struggle with it.”

    Regardless of his struggles and flaws, Isaac and I became good friends. It was nice to keep each other company, especially since the both of us dealt with trauma of some kind. He told me about what happened to him when he was in school, and, for the first time since then, I opened up about my own trauma. I didn’t zone out for once when thinking about it, but it still pained me which nearly brought me to tears.

    “It’s alright,” Isaac whispered, hugging me while we sat down on the couch. “At least they’re not feeling pain anymore.”

    “I know,” I wept, “but I miss them so much.”

    We didn’t utter another word to each other for the rest of the day, leaving us to watch a couple episodes of M*A*S*H, one of the many things we both loved. Another thing we bonded over was disco. Though I didn’t have a favorite disco singer in mind, Isaac loved Donna Summer. Aside from disco, I was particularly fond of Pink Floyd for as long as I could remember. Fleetwood Mac was another top favorite. When I told Isaac that I loved Billy Joel too, he said something interesting about Scottie.

    “He sounds like Billy Joel!” he exclaimed. “His speaking voice I mean.”

    “Yeah,” I replied.

    “Can’t you see that though?”

    “Oh yeah, definitely.”

    Time kept slipping through our hands like grains of sand. Soon enough, it was May of 1976 already; I had been friends with Isaac and Scottie for a little over a year now. Though not much had changed, Isaac had a confession to make one night. After I finished a performance on that late-May night, Isaac and I had to drive Scottie home. He was suffering from an episode again and as a result, engaged with one of his unhealthy coping mechanisms: alcohol. Isaac informed me that he didn’t drink that much, but Scottie could barely walk without flopping straight down on the ground. We also heard him speaking in Japanese under his breath in the back of the car, which was kinda weird but interesting. After we arrived home, it took us about half an hour to get him to bed. It should’ve taken us only five minutes, but when Scottie was drunk, he acted like a toddler and used his remaining energy to resist going to bed. When he finally grew tired of fighting us off, he flipped off his lights and hopped right into bed, almost crashing onto the floor. Isaac said his goodnights to Scottie and shut his door.

    “Well, that was a helluva fight,” I chuckled. “Now I’m about to pass out!”

    “Wait, you’re gonna go to bed now?” he asked.

    “Yeah, why?”

    He looked away from me for a moment before speaking again.

    “I have something . . . kinda important to tell you,” tuning his voice down to a whisper. “Can we talk about this in my room?”

    My heart fluttered for a second, but the feeling faded away. Despite what I felt just then, I nodded and moved into his room. Isaac laid down on the mattress that sat on the carpet while I sat down on the floor a few feet away from him. He extended his arm to lift up the record needle and placed it on the vinyl, starting Rod Stewart’s _Atlantic Crossing_. I cringed.

    “Please don’t tell me you have a crush on Rod Stewart,” I grimaced.

    “What the hell do you have against him?” he said jokingly.

    “Nothing! Nothing, it’s just—he embarrasses me.”

    “You have a crush on him, do you?”

    My face burned red with embarrassment.

    “N-no!” I stuttered.

    “That’s what I thought!” he laughed, grinning from ear-to-ear.

    When he calmed down, he turned the volume button to turn down that loudness of the music. It played softly in the background now, and we remained in silence. Isaac looked away from the record and stared right back at me, appearing tired now. He lifted his head, placing it in the palm of his hand and positioned his arm upward. He raised his eyebrows slightly as if he were telling me to say something. I gave him a puzzled look.

    “Didn’t you have something to say to me?” I questioned him.

    “Oh yeah,” he yawned. “Yeah . . . I’m feeling nervous though.”

    “It’s okay, take your time.”

    He took a deep breath and sighed, lifting his head off his hand and laying his head down on the pillow, crossing his arms.

    “Well, I have a crush on someone, but I don’t know how to tell them,” he told me. “What should I do about it?”

    I might have been a good advice giver, but when it came to relationships, I had absolutely nothing. Even if it was a simple question like “What should we eat for dinner?” I would have no clue what to say. I thought about it for a minute or two, until Isaac suggested me to hurry up.

    “Well, um,” I gulped, “I guess be honest about it? I don’t know. Just straight up tell them how you feel, man. That’s the best advice I can give, sorry.”

    “No, it’s cool,” Isaac replied. “I think it’s better than anything I could have thought of.”

    “Thanks.”

    The conversation died down again after that, leaving us to listen to Rod Stewart in the dead of the night; it was nearly one in the morning now. I remained sitting on the floor listening to record while Isaac was about to fall asleep. He looked like he was in deep thinking, but even though I had known him for a year already, I still wasn’t quite sure what went on in that mind of his. When “Sailing” started playing, Isaac was asleep or pretended that he was. Just as I was about to get up and go home, his eyes opened wide and he parted his lips and whispered a few, unforgettable words.

    “I love you.”

    I gave him a look of astonishment, sitting back down.

    “You . . . you do?” I murmured.

    He nodded, sitting up to face me while hiding the lower half of his face in one hand. However, I could still see the red blush spreading across his face. Embarrassed or madly in love, I couldn’t tell and couldn’t help but giggle a bit. He drew his hand away and scratched the back of his head, unsure what to say now.

    “How long have you felt like this?” I asked him, but I pretty much knew the answer.

    “Since we met kinda,” he remembered. “But I didn’t want to walk up to you then and say ‘I love you.’ It would’ve been weird, so I took it easy.”

    “Well, I’m glad you did. Because if you did it the other way, I would not be sitting in this room right now. I kinda figured it out though when you gave me your number.”

    “Really? That’s kinda awkward.”

    “It wasn’t, I promise. Besides, I’ve kinda grown to like you too.”

    “Really?”

    I nodded and then got up off the floor to sit next to Isaac on his bed. I gave him a warm smile, making him blush again. I chuckled, thinking that it was cute to see him like this. It really was a precious moment for both of us; for the first time since the accident, true happiness came to me, pushing me to ask him the question.

    “So are we a thing?” I inquired.

    “Y-you like me back?” Isaac asked with a surprised look on his face.

    “Totally!”

    He cracked the biggest, brightest smile I had ever seen since I met him. With that, I grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him closer to me, giving his cheek a smooch.


	12. Isaac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: self-harm and brief mentions of alcohol and drug use.
> 
> Shoutout to my friend Kat (@gogoberryremix on Twitter) for proofreading/editing this chapter! Thank you so much!

    I lazily got up out of the tub and checked my surroundings. Nothing in the bathroom seemed out of place or anything, but I flipped the lights on just to be sure. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, noticing how messy my hair was and the dark circles under my eyes were more visible. I sighed, feeling frustrated not knowing what happened last night. It was generally upsetting for me since I couldn’t remember anything when I drank, with the exception of my trauma. I soon found myself feeling numb and I was shaking, and my breathing became irregular. _Not again_ , I worried. Trying to ignore the feeling, I left the bathroom and walked into the living room.

    Scottie was lounging on the couch when I entered the room, still in his pajamas. He took a sip of black coffee, channeling through the TV programs until he decided to put on the news. Once he noticed that I was in the room, he said good morning, patting down on the couch cushion that was next to him. I sat down, watching the news for a bit.

    “Did you sleep well last night?” he asked jokingly.

    “Sure,” I replied sarcastically. “Sleeping in the bath is the best thing ever.”

    Scottie cracked up a bit, but I didn’t find it that funny

    “Honestly though,” I said with a more serious tone. “Why was I sleeping in the bathroom?”

    “Well, you got drunk for one thing which was stupid of you,” Scottie stated. “You didn’t do much. I did catch you trying to choke yourself.”

    “You’re kidding.”

    “I wish. Jeong and I had to restrain you for a while. And then you just stopped and decided to take a bath, but you slept in the tub for God knows how long.”

    “Jesus,” I gasped. I definitely did not remember that, but I probably attempted to choke myself in response to the trauma was tricked into remembering. Scottie watched my hands for a moment, trying to see what was up with me.

    “What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

    I wanted to tell him how I was feeling, but I found myself unable to speak. My voice wasn’t lost or anything, I could open my mouth, but I just couldn’t. It was as if there were an invisible hand right there, covering my mouth and refusing to let me speak.

    “Isaac?”

    _Why can’t I talk?_ I thought as I frowned.

    “Dude, what’s wrong with you?”

    _I don’t know._

“Have you gone deaf or something?”

    _No._

We sat there, not knowing what to do with me. I really wanted to tell him what was bothering me, but there was no way I could tell him physically. But just as Scottie was about to get up and leave, the hand faded away and I gently grabbed his arm.

    “What?” he impatiently asked, sitting back down.

    I was a quiet for a second, gathering my thoughts together before speaking.

    “I feel horrible,” I sighed.

    “Is that why you’re shaking?” he asked for confirmation.

    “Yeah. I get like this when I remember it.”

    “Yeah, I’m like that too when I remember her. Even when happy memories come up, I still feel sad, y’know?”

    I nodded and apologized to Scottie for not answering him earlier. He told me that I was fine, but I couldn’t help but feel guilty about going nonverbal at the wrong time. Maybe it was okay, it might have been how my brain reacted to stress, but it still frustrated me. When Scottie asked me if I wanted to eat breakfast, I nodded. Nervousness still churned within my stomach, but I ignored it as best as I could. I tried to not let it bother me much, but whenever I felt super stressed, I ate everything in sight.

    While Scottie was cooking up God knew what in the kitchen, probably eggs and toast, Jeong came out of their room and took a seat next to me, letting me wrap my arm around their shoulders. They had gotten dressed already but their hair remained unbrushed and they rubbed their eyes, yawning. After that, they sighed and rested their head on my shoulder.

    “Morning, beautiful,” I purred. “Did you sleep last night?”

    “I did,” they mumbled, “but I had nightmares again.”

    “About . . . ?” I was tempted to finish, but I didn’t say because I didn’t want to upset them already. However, they got the hint and nodded. We sat there for a moment not speaking a word to each other, but then I brought up about what happened with me and apologized for what happened. Hurting Jeong in any way was the last thing I would ever do, and worrying them too. They already suffered from such a heavy loss, so the thought of me dying young was something I hoped I would never have to go through.

    After we had the talk, Scottie brought our plates to us, each containing a large pile of scrambled eggs, two pieces of toast with a spread of butter, and orange slices. He then retreated back to the kitchen and grabbed his plate, still carrying his coffee mug. The man wasn’t a coffee addict, but his mornings were never complete without his cup of black coffee, which Jeong and I couldn’t stand to drink. Jeong was more of a tea person, I didn’t care for either. I only cared for water since it kept me hydrated.

    Scottie sat down in the lone chair that stood next to the couch. Before he ate, he took another sip of his coffee and placed it down on the wooden coffee table. He leaned back afterward, lazily eating his own breakfast.

    “You still tired, Scottie?” I ask, noticing the tired expression he had on his face. He sat up straight and stretched one of his arms over his head, making some weird noise.

    “A bit,” he yawned. “I had to brainstorm for a bit last night after we put you to bed.”

    “What for?”

    “I’m helping some local director on a project he’s doing. We might do something specific on the underground scene here in the city.”

    “Like what?” Jeong inquired, lifting their head off my shoulder

    Just then, the news queued some dramatic-sounding music, signaling that they were about to deliver a special news report. We all turned our heads to see what the commotion was about; I knew from the looks of the news anchor that this event was going to be a problem for not just the three of us, but for the city of Chicago and perhaps the country itself. Without wasting another second or two, he went on with his speech:

 

    “ _Good morning to you all on this late August morning! We like to bring you this special report about one of Chicago’s, and perhaps even one America’s most notorious cult leaders. Reagan Maddox, better well known mononymously as Lee, has begun to take greater control of the underground cult scene in Chicago. As you may know, his followers have grown to an alarming number of four thousand, with his gang of radicals nearing five hundred. Now, he threatens violence against those who dare to dismantle his cult and interfere with his preaching. We, as a community, should do everything we can to put a stop to his influence. In other words, the Chicago Police Department is calling for citizens who are willing to risk their lives to go undercover as a convert to expose Maddox’s future plans for Chicago. This information and other tips will offer great rewards for providing them. And now back to you, Paul . . .”_

 

The news switched back to the previous news anchor, not mentioning another word of Lee for the rest of the program. I couldn’t believe what I had heard just seconds ago. A cult leader? In Chicago? Since when? I turned to Jeong, who looked like they were zoning out again. They stopped once I snapped my fingers to get their attention, looking at me with a bewildered expression.

    “What was that for?” they said irritably.

    “You looked like you were out of it,” I replied. “Is something wrong?”

    “No, I didn’t realize he finished. I might’ve been too into it.”

    “Yeah,” Scottie joined in. “Lee . . . he’s quite the oddball.”

    “You knew him?” I said, finishing my eggs.

    “Not personally,” he remarked, “but I heard things about him before I moved to Tokyo. He dropped out of college a few years back to focus on his teachings.”

    “Really? Do people actually listen to him?”

    “Didn’t you hear what the news said?!” Jeong blurted, jumping up from the couch and pointed at the TV. “Four thousand people believe in what he preaches. And he has his own gang!”

    “Yeah, I know that!” I nearly yelled. “What I’m saying is that do people really believe in what he says?”

    “I don’t know, how ‘bout we actually visit the church?”

    “That’s . . . a great idea actually,” Scottie agreed.

    Jeong and I looked at each other in disbelief. Scottie couldn’t be serious with what he just said, can he? It was hard to tell since the tone of voice lacked sarcasm. As I gobbled up the rest of my toast, Jeong asked Scottie if he was being serious about going to the temple.

    “Yeah,” he nodded. “Did you think I was joking?”

    “I wish,” Jeong added.

    “Why?”

    Jeong stayed silent, with their eyes glaring down at the floor, sighing.

    “Are you up for it, Isaac?” he said, with a tone of persuasion in his voice.

    I thought about it for a minute. Visiting the temple sounded exciting and I was interested to learn about Lee and what inspired him to start the cult, but I feared that the mission would take a turn for the worst if we weren’t careful enough. Feeling that I was running out of time to decide, I impulsively went with the first decision.

    “Um . . . yeah,” I said slowly. “I’ll go.”

    “Okay, good,” he said. “Are you gonna come with us, Jeong?”

    I knew from the looks of it that Jeong didn’t want to be near the church within a mile radius. However, their answer was unexpected.

    “I’ll go,” they told Scottie. “I’d rather not go but I can’t stand staying behind.”

    “You sure you wanna go?” Scottie questioned them.

    “I do, just for you guys.”

    “Alright then.”

    When we finished the conversation, all three of us continued with our daily routines until we decided when we were going to pay Lee a visit. Jeong went to work, as usual, performing at the same club as always. I didn’t have to go work today since I had two days off; I considered it a gift since I couldn’t recall when was the last time I had two days off consecutively. I still had the weekend off for most of the time, but retail is hell. Some days I wished I could quit my job and pursue a career I would actually enjoy, but then I remembered that I dropped out of college.

    Dropping out was for the better of me; I needed time to take care of my health, but I felt like it was the worst decision I had ever made. Some days I was certain that my life was over, but I would get over it in a few hours. I knew that one day I could go back to college and still succeed, but to convince yourself to go back to school was a difficult task. Society expects you to succeed in everything by the time you were twenty-two. For a twenty-year-old dropout, I knew that society was mocking me and labeling me as a failure. People might even say that I’m lazy or stupid because I’m not white, or have lighter skin at the least.

    But then I thought about Scottie. Today he stayed at the house too, but he appeared to be working in his office, with only his lamp lighting up the room. I came in quietly and whispered a “hey” to him. He waved back at me and pointed to an empty chair, inviting me to sit next to him while he worked. I accepted the offer and sat down, sliding the chair closer next to him. When I glanced over his desk, pieces of paper were all over the place, all containing notes that Scottie had jot down. I could barely decipher what he wrote since his writing was small but messy.

    “So what are all these notes for?” I inquired.

    “Oh, they’re just drafts,” he replied, “and random notes.”

    “For your project?”

    “Yeah, kinda . . .”

    Watching him as he grabbed his pencil and scribbled down another note, I asked Scottie about his life after college.

    “Did you accomplish anything big after college?” I interviewed him.

    He turned away from his work, but he looked away from me as he was thinking hard.

    “So far I haven’t,” he sighed. “Honestly, I feel like I’ve done nothing with my life.”

    “How come? You’ve been to so many places and you have a lot of ideas!”

    “Yeah, but . . . I don’t know. I feel like I’ve wasted my whole life already. I act like I’m famous or something when people meet me, but I’m just a damn loser!”

    He groaned, slamming his fist down on the desk.

    “Don’t say that!” I objected. “Yeah you’re a little cocky sometimes, but you shouldn’t doubt yourself. You have so much potential.”

    “No, I don’t! Do you ever see me get anything done?”

    “No, because I’m usually at work.”

    “But still!” he nearly shouted, waving his arms around. “All I ever do now when I’m not working is getting drunk or high off my ass!”

    Before I had the chance to say anything else, Scottie jumped out of his seat and stormed out of his office, heading to his room.

    “Scottie!” I called, following him. “It’s okay if y—”

    “Nothing will ever be okay!” he cried. “Nothing has ever been okay for me!”

    With that, he slammed his door shut and I didn’t hear a word from him until Jeong came home from work that afternoon. I felt guilty about bringing up the subject of his successes, but then again I didn’t expect such an extreme reaction. Even after Jeong came home, when Scottie finally left his room, he looked worn out and done with everything. While Jeong and I were watching _M*A*S*H_ again, Scottie took a seat between us, reeking of alcohol. I had the impulse to get up and walk again since the alcohol was resurfacing the memory of my trauma again; I remained sitting, however, asking Scottie if he was doing alright. Without uttering a word to us, he showed me his left arm, covered in tiny, uneven cuts. Jeong stared at his arm in fear, not being able to cry while a tear from my eye dripped on one of the cuts. He flinched a bit, mourning quietly with the rest of us.

* * *

 

    It was September 10th now, the day we decided to visit the Modern Days’ Church of Lamia, otherwise the official name of the temple where Lee held service at. We were all quite anxious about it; Scottie assured us that we would be fine, as long as we followed the plan accordingly. I knew for sure that I had little confidence about the visit, but I had noticed that Jeong was zoning out more often than usual. Well, zoning out wasn’t the right choice of words, but we weren’t sure what was wrong. And typically, I would ask what was going on, but they would give me the vaguest answers.

    “We were almost a thing,” they told me once.

    “With who though?” I tried asking.

    They shrugged, trying to forget about it. I was tempted to pressure into answering truthfully, but I went along with it. And now we were on our way, with Scottie, to the temple. We drove through the city for awhile, before parking and getting out of the car to walk into an ally. Already, I could tell that this was suspicious. We walked a long way before we turned right, and then spotted a small staircase that leads to a back door. Though worn out, the door was repainted recently in mahogany and the doorknob was polished as well. Nothing else accompanied the door, except there was a cross hanging from a nail. It appeared to be gold, but the weather in recent years had washed some of its colors away. Still, it complimented the door.

    “Are you sure this is it?” Jeong asked Scottie.

    “From what I’ve heard, yes,” he confirmed. “This is the only entrance I know of to the place.”

    “If you say so.”

    It was obvious that Jeong did not want to knock on the door, so Scottie and I held a quick game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who should knock. I lost the game, with me gesturing paper and Scottie pointing two fingers at my hand. I cursed under my breath and groaned before taking a deep breath and knocking on the wood. One, two, three, four, five seconds passed. Then ten, fifteen, and thirty. When a whole minute passed, I knocked harder on the door.

    “What is taking so long?” I complained.

    “Maybe you should ring the doorbell instead,” Jeong suggested. “They probably have a lot going on so that’s probably why they’re not answering.”

    Glaring at the right side of the door, I noticed the tiny, white button and pressed it once to ignite a dinging noise. A few seconds later, the doorknob turned and the door cracked open an inch or two. Only two piercing blue eyes were seen, staring at me and then looked back to Scottie and Jeong.

    “Who are you?” the person questioned us, their voice sounding pleasant yet it was raspy.

    “We . . . “ Scottie started, walking up the staircase with Jeong following. “Is this the temple?”

    “Yes, why do you ask?”

    “We just wanted to visit, see what it’s like.”

    “You’re not one of those bastard undercover cops, are ya?”

    “No, not at all, and neither are my friends.”

    The person closed the door shut for a few seconds, falsely convincing us that we weren’t welcomed. Before we started leaving, they opened the door again, wide enough to reveal themself. The person standing before us was a man, but he dressed in a feminine manner. His hair grew past his shoulders, semi-straight and was bleached, nearly as pale as his skin. He dressed casually, wearing a long-sleeved blouse, baby blue jeans, had dark brown boots that went up to his ankle, and wore a gold medallion that was in the shape of a triangle. The only accessory of his that stood out were these golden, hoop earrings that he worn. They were thin, but they nearly touched his shoulders. He stared at us again with those icy blue eyes of his, studying us carefully, especially Jeong.

    “So, what did you came here for?” he asked, folding his hands together.

    “We’re visiting,” I answered. “We just want a tour of the place.”

    “Are you considering becoming a follower?”

    “Oh no!” Scottie responded. “I mean, we still need to think about it.”

    “I see,” the blonde nodded with enthusiasm, opening the door further. “Come on in!”

    Without further hesitation, we entered the building while observing the structure of the temple. The place was spacious, it wasn’t built in the style of a traditional church. Instead of pews, there were benches to sit on, and there stood a stage with a podium. The place was probably used as a theatre long ago, but I wasn’t quite sure since I haven’t lived in Chicago my whole life. It didn’t seem like mass was in session, but I spotted a few servants wearing plain white robes coming out of a room and heading down another hall. There wasn’t a lot of decorations to be seen, but the windows were still those multi-colored, stain glass windows you usually saw in cathedrals. And all the walls and floors and ceilings were painted beige, with the exception of the podium and benches, which matched the color of the front, or should I say, back door. We continued walking toward the stage until the man stopped in his tracks and turned to us.

    “So, what are you dying to know of?” he inquired, smirking.

    “Well, for one thing, are you Lee?” I asked, just to be sure if it was him that we were talking to.

    “Oh! My bad!” he laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. He had a nervous look on his face now and gulped hard before continuing. “I apologize for not introducing myself. But yes, I’m Lee!”

    “It’s fine,” I reassured him. “Just making sure we weren’t talking to the wrong person.”

    “Yeaaah, that would be uhh, very bad haha.”

    All four of us stood in awkward silence for a few moments until we saw another man walk by, who had long, wavy hair that was dyed a dark red color. Lee hollered at him, asking him to come on over here to introduce himself.

    “This is Laurie!” he said excitingly, pulling him closer to his side. “He’s my um, partner.”

    “You mean you two work together?” Jeong asked, which was the first time they spoke to him.

    “Y-yeah!” he stuttered. “We’ve been working together since last year. Conducting service isn’t his thing but photography is! He takes pictures of the place and uses them to advertise our temple.”

    “But where though?” Scottie questioned, raising one of his eyebrows in confusion.

    “Just where the cops can’t find them. Sometimes I get some of my followers to go out and hide them underneath other posters.”

    “Huh.”

    Laurie waved hi to all of us, already proving that he wasn’t so talkative, or maybe he sucked at introductions.

    “Anyway,” Lee continued, letting go of Laurie, “do you have any other questions before we start the tour?”

    Not one of us had anything to say.

    “Great!” he cheered. “Now, you two fellas can come with me while she goes with Laurie. It’ll take us less time if we split up.”

    Immediately, Jeong froze up, unable to speak. Their eyes didn’t show fear, but I knew they were deathly afraid of this place and certainly didn’t want to walk around all by themself.

    “Is something wrong with her?” Lee looked at Jeong in concern.

    “Oh, Jeong hates being alone,” Scottie stated. “I can walk with them and Laurie if that’s alright.”

    “If your other friend is okay with it, I’ll allow it,” Lee said, glaring at me. I didn’t mind being alone with the cult leader, but I sure as hell didn’t trust him one bit.

    “I can handle it,” I told him with certainty.

    “Good!” he smiled, gently clapping his hands. “Let’s go then!”

    Our group had split up and walked in opposite directions, into the wider corridors of the church. Lee and I walked past two rooms before we entered what seemed to be his office. Well, from the looks of it, it didn’t seem organized enough to be one. Though his desk was a nicely polished, wooden desk, it was covered in crumpled-up balls of paper, which surrounded his typewriter. Some of the paper balls were left on the floor; he had two couches but the color of the fabric had faded so it was hard to tell what the color was anymore. And there were his two bookshelves, only half of them filled with more books with some of his papers sticking out. All the walls were white and clean, except the one that faced his desk; there was a huge dent, almost a hole and it had red paint on it. Or blood? I couldn’t tell.

    “Sorry that my office is a wreck,” Lee apologized, but I could tell by the tone of his voice that he didn’t care about it. “Sometimes you just don’t care, you know what I mean?”

    I nodded, not saying anything about the matter. I looked around the room some more before the question popped up in my head again.

    “So what made you want to become a priest?” I asked, turning to him. He stared back at me, unimpressed with my question.

    “Lemme ask you this,” he added. “Why is my ex here?”

    I gave him a puzzled look; who was he talking about exactly? I didn’t know how to respond to his question since I wasn’t sure if it was rhetorical or not, but then Lee answered it for me.

    “Did she never told you about me?” he assumed.

    “You mean Jeong?” I guessed, even though I knew I had the right answer.

    “Of course!” he was frantically waving his hands, then walking to his bookshelf to pull out what seemed to be a photo album. “I’m surprised she never talked to you about our relationship! Or is it they now?”

    “They.”

    “Alright, I’m good then. Anyway, they never told you anything?”

    I shook my head. I didn’t really care about what Lee was about to say, but why did Jeong never tell me this happened? Was that why they’ve been avoiding my questions? Why did they say them and Lee were “almost a thing” when they did date for God knows how long? Before I could think about anything else, Lee opened up the book to the first page, which contained only one photo. In the photo, there was Lee and Jeong sitting on a sofa while they watched whatever was on the TV. Jeong looked the same as they did years ago, preserving their jet-black bob, skinny yet curvy figure, thin lips, and they still had the cutest nose. It was small and round, and while it made them felt insecure, it was one of the many things I loved about them. Lee, on the other hand, looked much different in appearance. His face was the same, but it was covered with patches of acne, and his hair was shorter and not as white. I tried not to laugh when I looked at the picture, but I couldn’t help.

    “Y-You two dated?” I snickered, still trying to hold my laughter in. “I’m sorry but that is the ugliest son of a bitch I’ve ever seen in my life!” I burst out laughing. “No wonder they dumped you!”

    I was hollering and losing my shit until Lee grabbed my ear harshly and I yelped in pain, dropping the book on the ground. Lee then gripped onto my chin, turning my face to his.

    “First of all, that picture was taken before we even dated!” he snapped at me. “And second, no! That’s not why we broke up!”

    “Well, sorry!” I said sarcastically. “Not my fault my girlfriend doesn’t talk about their exes!”

    Lee released my chin from his grip and pushed me away, still giving me a deathly stare and huffed. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down before speaking again.

    “Sorry,” he apologized, “but we . . . I wouldn’t say we were close. Well, I thought we had something special.”

    “And how?” I asked him to explain, though his facial expression suggested that he didn’t want to talk about it. However, when he picked the album off the floor and sat down at one of the old, worn out couches, he flipped the pages to a different photo. I sat down next to him and saw that the photo was from 1971. Lee’s face was a lot clearer then and he started growing his hair out, while Jeong, again, looked the same. I wasn’t able to make out where they were when the picture was taken, but in that photo, Lee was holding Jeong close to him, kissing them on the cheek. Jealousy crept on me a bit, but then I remembered that it was a different time.

    “It was us against the world then,” he told me, with melancholy lingering in his voice. “We told each other our life stories. I nearly teared up when they told me that their parents passed away in a car crash, but I lost it when they told me they had no one when they came here from South Korea.”

    “Yeah, I remember that,” I muttered.

    “Don’t you understand though? I was a misfit while growing up. I could never fit in, which isn’t bad, y’know? But just . . .” he paused, clenching his fist in frustration. “The kids at school said I was a delusional freak, that I deserved to be locked up! Even in college I was still picked on for it, but at least I had friends that supported me. And Jeong! At least I thought so.”

    “What happened between you two?”

    He stopped talking and got up, slamming the book shut and threw it across the room. It crashed into the dent, but the book luckily didn’t make the damage any worse. He gripped onto one of his shoulders, clenching it with his sharp, black nails. He nearly drew blood but stopped, letting out a big sigh. He turned back to me, now appearing exhausted.

    “They broke my trust,” he said in a harsh tone. “I told them my ideas and my obsession with Lamia, but they thought it was all ridiculous. We stayed together for a little longer, but as I started talking about it more, they decided they didn’t want to be around me anymore.”

    “Well, sometimes people don’t believe in the same things as you,” I tried to reason.

    “You don’t understand. This religion is literally my life, it’s the only thing that keeps me from killing myself. I know I sound like a madman but I need it to keep my sanity. Wouldn’t you feel like shit if they told you that they didn’t approve of something you loved?”

    I haven’t been in a situation like that before, but I answered honestly.

    “I mean, I guess,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders. “But it depends on whether it’s harmful or not.”

    “I see your point,” he agreed with me. “Anyway, we broke up in May of ‘72 and didn’t see each other for awhile. The last time I saw them before today was in October of that same year. We felt miserable that night, so we screwed before I dropped out of college the next day. And now I can’t believe that they’re walking inside this church. It absolutely blows my mind.”

    The room fell silent again as I got up off the couch, looking at the books that were on the shelf. I nearly jumped when Lee gently grabbed my shoulders from behind, his breath grazing my ear as he whispered something to me.

    “So will you join?” he said in a tone that seemed seductive. He was about to say something else to me but before he could, I nudged him away from me. When I turned to look at him, he seemed shocked but wasn’t angry. He only stood there, playing with his gold ring that I just now noticed. He focused his attention on me again, displaying a neutral expression.

    “What else do you want to know about?” he inquired.

    I knew what my last question was already, but I sort of hesitated to ask since I wasn’t sure how he would respond to it. However, I went with it anyway and asked him.

    “What is this exactly? Is this some type of Satan shit?” I asked nervously. Just as I thought, Lee grabbed my arm and rushed me out of his office, leading me down the hallway back to the main part of the building. Just in time, Scottie, Jeong, and Laurie entered the main church.

    “You came in right on time, Laurie!” Lee yelled. “Lead them all to the exit and tell them to get lost!”

 _Well fuck,_ I thought. _Why did I have to ask that?_ As we reached the main door, Lee and Laurie pushed us all down the staircase, with Lee giving Jeong an extra push as well. As expected, we fell over and landed on the ground, but we remained uninjured. As I got up off the ground and brushed the dirt off me, Lee yelled at me again.

    “Don’t think about coming back, you fucking imbecile!” he warned, then pointing at Jeong. “Especially you! If I see any of your faces around here ever again, I’ll cut you!”

    With that, he slammed the door, accidentally letting the cross crashed onto the ground. I know that wasn’t going to be our last encounter, but my gut suggested that this wasn’t going to end well. After I lifted Scottie and Jeong up off the ground, we went home and didn’t speak of the incident for the rest of the day.


	13. Jeong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: elements of alcohol.

    It’s been one week since we were kicked out of the church. I tried not to think about it much, especially when I passed by the alleyway when I drove home from work, but it always got to me. Thinking about Reagan didn’t upset me anymore, but I still couldn’t believe what he had become. Back when we still dated, I always tried my best to convince him of giving it all up. I tried, but once he gained a following and dropped out of college, I knew that it was too late. Nothing could be done to pull him out of it; no longer was he the Reagan that I knew before. When I met him again that last Friday, it felt dreadful but I was relieved. He was still a hectic man, but I was thankful to know that he was still alive. Though it was impossible to come back to the place, I hoped that Reagan would somehow find peace one day.

    It was Friday when I woke up, a work day, but I didn’t have to go to the club until five that evening. As I stretched, I found myself in Isaac’s bed but noticed that he wasn’t in it either. I suspected that he had a morning shift, but I could be wrong. I got up and stretched some more, straightening up my oversized nightshirt before I left his room. When I walked down the hallway and entered the living room, I saw no one, until I focused my attention on the coffee table and noticed there was a note on it. I rushed to it and grabbed the note, immediately identifying the handwriting as Isaac’s. It read:

 

    _Hi Jeong!_

 

_I had work early this morning, but I’ll be back at two! I love you!_

 

— _Isaac_

 

    I smiled and left the note on the table again. For a second, I thought I had the whole house to myself, but when I walked back to the hall and peeped into the office, I found Scottie at his desk, sleeping. I sighed, knocking on the open door, hoping that it would wake him up. He didn’t flinch a bit.

    “This man sleeps through everything,” I whispered to myself. Honest to God, if a bomb went off and tore down the apartment across the street, he would still be dead asleep. It was also possible that he pulled another all-nighter again since he wanted to get some progress done on his project.

    I sighed again, creeping behind him quietly until I was close enough to reach his shoulders. Without a second thought, I yanked his hair back and he screeched as he sat up in his seat, but it turned into moaning. I freaked out, accidentally pulling his hair again before I let go. He still moaned, but it was rather in pain now than in . . . pleasure? Whatever it was, it sounded nasty.

    “What was that for?!” he spat, whipping his head toward me.

    “I was just making sure you were alive!” I retorted. “And what was that noise you made?”

    “Oh, that? You just woke me up from a good dream,” he smiled, but then groaned in agony. “But now I can’t finish it!”

    “Well, sorry, but it’s getting kinda late here,” I pointed to the clock that laid on his desk. “It’s almost ten.”

    “That’s early!”

    “Whatever you say.”

    I left his office with nothing else to talk about. Scottie nearly went back to sleep, but later while I was watching the TV, he made brunch for the two of us. He wasn’t necessarily the best cook, but at least the food he made was edible and enough for me to get through the day. We did nothing exciting for the next few hours; Scottie only left the house to meet up with one of his coworkers about his project. I left for an hour, taking a walk in the park that was nearby.

    The temperatures were starting to drop a little at this time in the year. The cold didn’t bother me so much since I adapted to the weather when I lived in South Korea, but I wore my fall clothes in fear of catching a cold. Aside from that, it was a very nice day to walk in the park; it was cloudy throughout the day, but I cherish cloudy days since they were always the calmest days for me. For other people, they’re going to be busy days, but I always felt normal whenever I looked up to the sky and saw clouds. I was never able to explain why they always made me felt that way, but they did for as long as I could remember.

    I love fall too, particularly when the leaves started changing their colors. But the best part about walking in the park was stepping on them, hearing the crunching noise below you. For a while, I hated crushing them and would avoid stepping on them, but recently I would find myself tearing them apart with the heel of my boot. Crushing them used to sadden me, but now I always appreciated them before I ruined them. Beauty of any kind will never last forever, no matter how hard you try to preserve it, so I always took my time to appreciate the beautiful, little things in life before they’re destroyed. If you only worry about how you’re going to protect it, do you really appreciate life? I might sound like a nihilist, but eventually, we all meet our ends at some point in time.

    After being alone at the park with just only my thoughts, I walked back home. I didn’t notice how long I was gone until I looked down at my watch. It was only one o’clock in the afternoon now, but did I really spent two hours in the park, questioning my existence and the universe? Or was I just zoning out that entire time? Or was I daydreaming again? I stopped thinking about it for awhile, as I tried to focus on getting home.

    When I returned home, I saw Isaac sitting on the living room couch through the front window and was filled with immediate joy. “ _He’s back early!”_ I thought while smiling. The last time I saw him was when he went to bed last night, but I always felt happy to see him again after even being away from him for a few hours. I wasn’t even possessive or overprotective or anything for that matter, I just happened to love him so much.

    “Hey!” I greeted him as I opened the front door. “You’re back already!”

    “Yeah, I got off work early,” he said, reaching for another cracker on the snack plate that sat on the coffee table. “Where were you?”

    “At the park!” I sang, closing the door behind me. “It was nice and it was cloudy out.”

    “That’s nice.” After he said that, he shoved the cracker into his mouth, chomping down on it. Once I had placed my coat on the clothes hanger nearby, I took a seat next to him, already resting my head on his shoulder.

    “I wish I didn’t have to go to work today,” I sighed. “I’m so tired already.”

    “Me too,” he agreed, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “Today wasn’t even that bad but I still feel like I’m about to pass out.”

    I nodded and then yawned. I really wanted to take a nap, but I knew today wasn’t the day. Plus, there was something I wanted to ask Isaac about, but before I could ask him, the question slipped away from my mind. I’m sure it would come back to me sooner or later, but I wanted to ask him before work. Still, no matter how hard I thought, my brain couldn’t find it. Isaac and I sat there for a good thirty minutes, watching whatever was on TV. When one of the programs mentioned something about church, that’s when it all came back to me.

    “Oh yeah, Isaac,” I broke the silence between us. “Did Lee tell you anything about the church last Friday?”

    “Did Laurie not tell you anything?” he asked irritably. “I’ve been meaning to ask Scottie but he’s been busy this past week.”

    “All Laurie did was that he showed us his art and stuff. I mean it was nice but he didn’t even answer our questions!”

    “Why?”

    “‘Cause he would say shit like, ‘We can ask Lee that later,’ or ‘I don’t know,’ and it was so annoying!” I felt frustrated now, resting my head on one of my hands. “He wasn’t even that bad of a guy anyway, I just wished he answered at least one question!”

    “I know,” Isaac sighed. “Lee gave me answers but he wasn’t even talking about the church.”

    Somehow, I already knew what Reagan told him, but I asked Isaac what happened that day.

    “He told me about . . . your guys’ relationship basically,” he mumbled. “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

    “I didn’t want to make you feel jealous,” I frowned. “I’m sorry.”

    “I’m not mad, Jeong. You obviously broke up with him a long time ago so how could I be mad about that?”

    I looked away for a moment, feeling that I was about to zone out again if I didn’t know how to answer the question.

    “I don’t know,” I replied. “I really don’t know.”

    “Well, it’s okay,” he reassured me. “Just please be honest next time, okay?”

    I nodded.

    “Okay,” he continued. “Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, so you dated him?”

    I nodded again, remembering what my life used to be like when Reagan and I were still together. All the memories came flowing back to me as Isaac told me what Reagan had told him. Throughout the conversation, I didn’t say a word or two, I only sat there and listened. Isaac told me everything that I could remember, from Reagan telling me he needed his new religion to keep him alive, to the day we broke up. Before then, I thought I had forgotten everything about him, but all my memories of Reagan were still clear and intact. I nearly broke down in tears in front of Isaac until he stopped to hug me, rubbing my back to comfort me.

    “I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered. “I’m sorry he’s made you feel like this.”

    “I-it’s not like he meant to hurt me or a-anything,” I stuttered, wiping away my tears. “I loved him so much then but I didn’t know how to help him. I still feel like it’s my fault.”

    “It’s not, I promise. It’s no one’s fault, really.”

    “I know b-but . . .” I gasped, trying to calm down a bit before I could continue. “H-he’s not the Reagan I used to know!”

    I gently pushed Isaac away from me, signaling that I needed a little bit of space to myself before I would resume the conversation.

    “He wasn’t just my boyfriend then,” I sniffed. “He was my best friend too, Isaac. We did pretty much everything together because we had no one else. It was basically us against the world.”

    “He told me the exact same thing,” Isaac recalled. “About you two going up against the world.”

    I wanted to say something but broke down again before I had the chance to answer. _Reagan is still alive,_ I thought. _He’s still alive, I just know it._ Even though he wasn’t the sweet, shy boy that I used to know in college, it brought me great relief to know that deep down somewhere, his soul didn’t change a bit over the years. However, to hear that now was heartbreaking, especially for me. I had the urge to help him realize what he has become, but at the same time, I doubt myself that he would change.

    “I-I’m sorry!” I sobbed. “I just wish I could help him! I know it sounds crazy but I know he can still get help if we try . . .”

    “I know,” Isaac mumbled. “It might not help but sometimes it’s better to move on.”

    “But why should I?! How can I move on when I don’t know how to fix this problem yet?”

    “You can’t.”

    Not knowing what else to say, I hid myself in the crook of Isaac’s neck and sobbed my heart out. I didn’t want to prove him right, but what he told me just now was true. There was no way I could go back to that church to help Reagan without being threatened. Compared to the last time I saw him four years ago, his personality had definitely changed, and now I wasn’t sure if he wanted to listen to me anymore.

    Isaac and I didn’t talk about Reagan anymore after Scottie came home from his meeting. All three of us just sat there watching TV, talking about the events of our days before I went to work that evening. Time seemed to pass much quicker than usual when I was performing at the club, but it turned out that I had a six-hour shift that night. I considered myself lucky, and after I finished my shift, I drove to the Mallory Tavern, still dressed in my long, red sequin dress. Before I met Isaac and Scottie that one night over a year ago, I thought the place was only a nightclub, but later on when I talked to a few of my coworkers about applying, they mentioned that there was a bar at the place as well. I didn’t care about visiting the tavern for the longest time, but after one rough day, I thought I would reward myself with a drink or two.

    When I pushed open the main door to the bar, I swore that I entered another dimension. With the low red lighting, the ominous jazz music playing in the background, and being larger than the other nightclub in general, I felt that I wasn’t supposed to be here, but my gut suggested otherwise. While I expected huge crowds within the large, vast building, it was unexpectedly slow on this Friday night, yet it still felt crowded. Some of the club-goers were unfamiliar to me, so I felt out of place until I spot my dear old friend, sitting at the bar nearby. It was hard to tell that it was Reagan since the red lights reflected off his hair, making its color appear a light pink. However, when he turned to have a talk with one of the customers, I recognized his face. I caught his attention for a moment, but my presence didn’t faze him and he looked away and resumed his conversation, probably pretending that I didn’t exist. I tested this theory as I walked up to the bar and took a seat next to him, and I was proven wrong when he immediately turned around and faced me. He lifted up his drink, taking a sip of his margarita, and then placed it back down on the table.

    “So,” he whispered, “what brought you here?”

    That was an interesting question that he asked me. “ _Why are you talking to me, Reagan?”_ I thought to myself. I was tempted to ask him that, but I didn’t want to get on his nerves already, so I thought of something else in mind.

    “I thought you didn’t want to see me again,” I murmured.

    “Oh . . . that,” he said slowly. “Yeah, um. You know when you say things out of anger that you don’t mean to? Yeah, I didn’t really mean it.”

    “So you didn’t mean to push us on the way out?”

    He glared back at his drink, unsure how to answer it at first but then shrugged.

    “Anyway, how are you doing?” he asked me, trying to change the topic.

    “Fine, I guess,” I lied, going along with it.

    “Really? You seem tired.”

    I nodded, trying to convince him that I was telling the truth. For a moment, I thought he believed me but after taking another sip of his drink, he continued.

    “I know what you’re thinking, Jeong,” he went on. “You miss me, don’t you?”

    I paused for another moment, trying to decide if I were to tell him the truth this time.

    “I do,” I admitted, “but . . . not in that way.”

    “What do you mean by that?” he insisted.

    Before I could answer him, the bartender came by and asked me if he could fix me up a drink. I ordered my usual, a daiquiri, and he continued with his business.

    “I miss you, Reagan,” I mumbled. “I know you’re still the same boy I knew in college.”

    “Why are you still calling me that?” he pointed out. “That’s the name of an impulsive coward.”

    “How come the news still call you Reagan?”

    “The news loves to slander my name,” he commented, rolling his eyes. “It’s been like that for years now, but they don’t matter. But why do you still call me that?”

    Why? I wasn’t sure why, but I always thought the name was fitting for him. Lee wasn’t a bad name at all, but if I were him, I would use it as a middle name. Or was that his true middle name? Reagan Lee Maddox sounded right, but it's been so long since I sat down and had a full-on conversation with him.

    “Well, what do you like about the name Lee?” I asked him. It surprised him a bit, but he didn’t bother to avoid the question.

    “I don’t know,” he shrugged. “What do you think of it?”

    I grunted. “ _Why can’t he just answer the question?”_

    “Honestly, I don’t . . .” I trailed off for a second, thinking about how I was going to defend my argument. “I don’t necessarily hate it, but it would fit you better as a middle name.”

    “I can see that,” he reasoned with me. “Also, you didn’t answer my question from earlier.”

 _“Oh no,”_ I thought. “ _I had completely forgotten about that.”_ I almost panicked when I couldn’t figure out how to answer, but then something relevant popped into my mind. I took a deep breath, then exhaling and proceeded.

    “I’ll ask you this first,” I said as the bartender passed by to hand me my drink. I took a sip of the refreshment before I could interrogate Reagan any further. “How are you here?”

    “What do you mean?” he raised a brow.

    “How are you not in jail already?” I argued. “You’re out here in the open, how can anyone in this building not recognize you?”

    He smacked his hands together, bursting out into laughter for the whole place to hear. Whether it was from the effects of alcohol or just him, I couldn’t interpret why he was doing such a thing out in public. While I didn’t associate with him in any way, all the ruckus he was causing gave me second-hand embarrassment.

    “Oh, you crack me up, honey!” he wheezed. “You fell for it just like Scottie did!”

    “What are you talking about?!” I stammered. I didn’t know what was going on now, but my mind was telling me to run like hell.

    “All of this!” Reagan brought his voice down to a whisper. “All of this is a coverup! It all belongs to me! Everyone you see here is a devoted follower of mine.”

    “No,” I stuttered, shaking my head. “No, you can’t be serious.”

    “Jeong, don’t you know? I never, ever lie! Especially to you . . .”

    He was right. I couldn’t tell if that was on purpose or not, but the real Reagan revealed himself once again. Part of me wanted to stay for a little longer, to talk to him more to find out what else he was thinking, but before I could, I jumped out of my chair and dashed for the front door. Regardless of the whole conversation were a trap or not, I couldn’t bear myself to stay any longer. Once I left the nightclub and got into my car, I turned the key to ignite the engine. I was ready to drive away until I looked back at the doors and saw Reagan, holding one of the doors open. He appeared to be yelling at me, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying since I had all the windows closed. Without wasting any more time, I backed up a little and then drove away.

    Never did I drive so fast in my entire life. Even though I knew he wouldn’t allow himself to follow me back to the house, I drove as if my life depended on it. I started crying once I got home, but I lied to Isaac about what happened, telling him that I dealt with some shitty customers again. He advised me to go to bed, telling me that I would feel better in the morning then. I decided to sleep in my bedroom that night so that I wouldn’t disturb him while he slept, but I stayed up as I was still stricken with terror. “ _I never, ever lie!”_ That was all I could think of that night as I cried myself to sleep. The Reagan I knew was still there, but he became something else while I was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proofreading credits go to Kat @gogoberryremix.


	14. Isaac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: implied NSFW.
> 
> Note: Lee used she/her for Jeong in the past before they came to terms of being nonbinary. This is to clear up any confusion.

    Time slipped away again, but it was starting to slow down. It was only the middle of October now and Halloween was approaching, but none of us three celebrated the holiday anymore. The month gave me an excuse to indulge myself and watch all the horror movies I wanted to, but other than that, October had always been a slow and miserable month, but November was worse. I couldn’t bother to celebrate Thanksgiving anymore either, all thanks to my malicious ex-boyfriend. I should be moving on from what happened to me, but I can’t stand the holiday anymore, or drinking, or sometimes eggs if I’m more depressed than usual. Maybe there will come a time where Jeong and I could sit down and eat Thanksgiving dinner, but for now, I had to focus carefully on the present and pave out my future with one day at a time.

    Though I told myself it was the middle of October now, in reality, today was only the 12th, a Tuesday specifically. Practically, everyone hates Mondays but for me, I loathed Tuesdays since they were the slowest days at work. I was only working for six hours that morning, but it felt like an eternity for me, especially for someone that worked as a cashier. To make the day even more tiring for me, I was the guy that had to open up the store at eight that morning. Thank God I didn’t have to put up with any rude customers that day, or else I would’ve blown up and be fired right there on the spot. I knew that the manager was a nice man, but I was afraid of disappointing him, and he still had worse days as well.

    Nothing was ever exciting for me at my job since I stuck to pretty much the same, old routine every single day that I’ve worked here. I usually worked in the mornings since I was a morning person most days, but there had been some occasions where I requested to work later in the day. Other than that, nothing has changed about my job; I was rarely the one to open up the store, but I always started my shift at eight o’clock sharp and I would go on working until two. Never did I had to work later than that when it came to my morning shifts. Maybe once or twice I had to stay an hour later, but it was hard for me to remember. Whether I was working early or later in the day, my shifts seemed to go on forever. Like I had to stated previously, nothing exciting ever happened while I worked there. All I ever did was check out and bag groceries. If you counted aggressive customers attempting to start an argument with you, your coworkers, or your manager as something exciting, then that was the only thing out of the ordinary that ever happened at the store. Two white moms had a fight near the bread aisle over some stupid shit that I long forgot about. Other than those shenanigans, working here bored me to death and I wanted to quit my job for a while now, but I only stayed since the pay was good enough to depend on.

    “Alright, Isaac, you’re free to go,” my manager told me as he walked up to my counter that afternoon. “I’ll see you again this Friday.”

    “You too, Mr. Ross,” I said, grabbing my car keys from underneath the counter as I walked out of the store. _“A two-day break, thank God,”_ I thought to myself. _“I definitely need a break.”_

    Lately, I had been receiving more breaks from work than usual. I wasn’t quite sure why, but it was either that the manager was recognizing my hard work, or he favored me over some of my coworkers. I felt bad about the fact that they weren’t getting more days off, but with Lee’s presence becoming a bigger threat to Chicago, I had to take every chance I got to stop him and beat some sense into him somehow.

    After I left work, I headed to my car and drove back home. I expected to be there within minutes, but the traffic was heavier than usual that afternoon. I tried to look out of the window and see what the commotion was about but I retreated my head back into the car when a chilly breeze of wind started blowing. I lived up north for most of my life, but I knew that I was never going to get used to the cold no matter what. Luckily, traffic didn’t last for long and I got off that street within fifteen minutes time. I arrived home five minutes later, thinking that I was home alone when I walked into the house, but then I saw Scottie sitting on the couch in the living room. Though his eyes weren’t red, he appeared to be exhausted and looked like he had been crying.

    “You okay, Scottie?” I asked as I sat down next to him. It took him a few seconds to respond.

    “Kinda,” he sighed. “I nearly got mugged and I’m still in shock about it.”

    “Who tried to mug you?!”

    “I dunno. There were two of them and I guess they were from Lee’s church, trying to convince me to read this Lamia book or whatever. I pepper-sprayed both of them and managed to get away.”

    “Oh, thank God.”

    “Yeah,” he nodded. “I’m just scared they’ll find me somehow and kill me.”

    “I doubt they will, man,” I reassured him. “I don’t think Lee would allow them to kill anyone.”

    “You say that as if he’s logical.”

    “Just shut up, man,” I bumped my elbow against his arm. “I know the guy’s a weirdo but he isn’t stupid.”

    “Who the hell told you that?” Scottie inquired, his face expressing disbelief.

    “Jeong did,” I confirmed. “We were talking about him last week. Apparently, he was like in the top twenty-five percent of his graduating class. And Jeong said he’s pretty wise for his age.”

    “He sure doesn’t act like it.”

    “Well, you don’t know him personally so why judge?”

    Scottie gave me a puzzled look.

    “Didn’t you just called him a weirdo a minute ago?” he inquired.

    “Yeah, but that’s because we already knew that,” I reminded him, sighing and getting up from the couch to walk to the kitchen. I swung the cabinet door open and fetched a small glass off the shelf, filling it up with water from the faucet. I raised the glass to my lips and took a sip or two before setting it down on the counter. “Anyway, what else have you been up to?” I continued, walking back to the couch.

    “Nothing really,” Scottie admitted. “I worked on my project for a bit, but that’s about it.”

    “That’s good. What did ya come up with?”

    “Well—” he began but was interrupted when he sneezed. “God, sorry. Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh, oh yeah, that film project. Um . . .”

    He took a minute to gather his thoughts, twisting a lock of dark hair between his fingers as he wondered.

    “Do you wanna be a part of this?” he asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.

    “Like do what exactly?” I specified. “Be a cameraman or somethin’?”

    “Not exactly. I was gonna go alone, but I figured that it might’ve been dangerous so I might need your help.”

    I felt a small shudder crawl up my spine, already feeling anxious about Scottie’s plans. Nowadays, he was a little unpredictable at times, so Jeong and I were unable to tell what he was up to. Not that it was a bad thing, but sometimes I wish I knew him a little better.

    “Well, what are you trying to do?” I continued the conversation.

    “I mean, call me crazy or whatever, but I actually wanna go back to Lee’s church,” he said, determined to do this. _“Oh, hell no,”_ I thought. _“There’s no way you’re going back there alone.”_

    “Yeeeaah, I’m coming with you,” I agreed to his plan. “You never know what the hell goes on in that place.”

    “True. It looks like about any other church but just . . .” he left his sentence trailing, going into deep thought again while I got up off the couch to go back into the kitchen. I grabbed the glass, which still stood on the counter, and gulped down the rest of the water and visited the sink to fill it up some more. That’s when Scottie told me his opinion about the church. “I didn’t feel safe walking in that church, even with Jeong by my side.”

    “Then why go back?” I inquired, before gulping down another glass of water.

    Without answering my question, Scottie stood up and walked toward the kitchen counter, focusing on the single framed picture of him and Maddie sleeping in that small tent of theirs. He sat down on the stool that stood by there, resting his right arm on the counter with his fingers tapping it rapidly on the marble surface. Propping his head on his other hand, he observed the picture for a few more seconds.

    “Something feels strange about that man,” he muttered. “He’s a very strange person, but it might just be deeper than that.”

    “What do you think it is?” I asked, finished with the glass when I set it down in the sink.  

    “He might be hiding something. Where did he take you to that day we visited the church?”

    “His office. That’s when we had that talk about Jeong.”

    “He didn’t tell you anything about his church either?”

    “Nope. I asked him if it had anything to do with the devil and that’s when he decided to kick us out.”

    “Well, damn,” he cursed, lightly banging his fist on the counter. “Maybe he might be a Satanist after all.”

    “How would you know? He never said he was,” I replied.

    “Yeah, but he didn’t confirm nor deny it, so that’s why we gotta break into his office.”

    “And do what?”

    Scottie waved his hands frantically as if he didn’t know what was going on, staring at them with concern.

    “Um, I don’t know!” he shrugged his shoulders. “I guess we’ll just look around and see what we can find.”

    “Are you sure about this?” I asked worriedly. “If Lee finds us, God knows what could happen, Scottie.”

    “Oh yeah, I’m definitely sure. And I ain’t afraid of that bastard at all. Is tomorrow okay with you?”

    “Yeah, the manager gave me two days off.”

    “God, you’re so lucky, aren’t ya? When I worked at my first job in retail, my boss never gave me two days off in a row! Going to Woodstock didn’t count because I went ahead and quit the job.”

    “Well, times have changed, y’know?”

    “You ain’t wrong,” he agreed with me, pointing his index finger at me. “Anyway, tomorrow then.”

    “For sure,” I nodded.

* * *

 

    Wednesday had come already, but between the time we agreed on the plan until now, time seemed to drag itself out much slower than usual. I didn’t have much to do, which might have why, considering I didn’t have work that day. Jeong didn’t either, so we had some time to ourselves until Scottie and I left the house at one o’clock that afternoon. The cold weather was really beginning to kick in now, with the high temperature peaking at sixty-one degrees and the cool wind wisping against my face while the window on my side of the car was cracked an inch open. My face embraced the coolness as I stared back at the city life that stood behind my window. It was very bright outside, the sunlight pouring into the car through the front window, yet my eyelids were feeling heavy and I caught myself yawning as we got closer to our destination.

    I leaned back and sank further into my seat, about ready to sleep until the car came to a complete stop and parked at the side of the street. When Scottie collected his camera, he grabbed the fabric of my coat and gently shook me awake as I groaned in protest.

    “C’mon, man,” he sighed. “We gotta do this. This might be our only chance!”

    “I know,” I whined. “I’m just so tired for no reason.”

    “I am too, but you don’t see me complaining.”

    “Let’s just get this done with.”

    Once I pushed down the red button by my side, it releases the seatbelt from its grip and I jumped out of the car as I opened the door. I slammed it closed in time with Scottie’s door, straightening up my coat so I wouldn’t look like a fool out in public. Scottie didn’t waste another minute and began walking down the alley with me following along. Just as I had remembered it from our previous visit, we walked down the alley for a long while before making a right and coming across the door, which still preserved its mahogany color. The door didn’t change much, except the cross was turned about ninety degrees. Pretty odd for a cross to be angled in such a position.

    “Did someone messed with it or something?” I assumed. “He wouldn’t do that on purpose, would he?”

    “He did actually,” Scottie answered. “When he doesn’t hold mass for the day, he turns it just like that. It’s pretty weird but it’s certainly less distracting than a sign of some sort.”

    “Honestly, it’s pretty distracting for me.”

    “I agree with you on that honestly.”

    Extending his right arm, Scottie placed his hand firmly on the doorknob and forcefully turned it, but was unsuccessful and turned it in the opposite direction, but the door didn’t budge.

    “Are you fucking kidding me?” he cursed under his breath. “Door’s locked.”

    “For real?” I cocked my eyebrow.

    “Yeah, man. He’s got it locked up and now there’s no way we can get in.”

    I surveyed my surroundings, checking to see if there was anything we could use to sneak into the church. All that was lying around was a trash can and a soggy cardboard box that had been left out in the rain for days. I turned to face the building again, staring into the windows until the idea came to me.

    “Do you think he keeps his windows locked?” I inquired. “I mean, does he even think about it?”

    Scottie turned his head to look at the windows, carefully observing the structure of the window that was closest to us. He backs away from the door and walks over to the window, gently lifting up the screen that protected the glass. A curse slips from his mouth before he carefully dropped the screen back down in its place.

    “It’s unlocked,” he said. “But why though?”

    “I don’t know, but that doesn’t matter now,” I remind him. “Open it up and I’ll unlock the door.”

    Scottie lifted the screen once more, sliding it all the way up until he locked it in place, then pushed up the glass window and held it there, where it was open wide enough for me to climb into the place. He pointed his pinky, telling me to go ahead and climb inside. I didn’t waste another minute, walking on over and stuck my arms in first, climbing in until I came down crashing on the wooden floor. My funny bone was the first thing to hit the floor, nearly driving me to curse at the top of my lungs, but I whispered instead.

    “Fuck!”

    Scottie closed the window immediately after I entered the building, now waiting for me to unlock the door. However, I still laid there on the floor, unable to move for some weird reason. Not a minute had passed, but I didn’t feel safe in here at all. There wasn’t anyone in sight, yet I felt that I was being watched by an unknown entity. I heard a strange noise as well, but that didn’t phase me as much when I heard a voice. _Why are you here again?_ I sat up, shocked by how clear it sounded as if someone was talking right in my face. Yet, no one was around at this hour.

    “Hey, are ya okay?” I heard Scottie’s muffled voice coming from the door. “What’s the holdup?”

    I finally got up off the ground, but stayed silent and listened closely for any other strange noises. I twisted the lock that was in the middle of the doorknob, then turning the upper lock before cracking the door open. Scottie walked in immediately, but from the looks of it, he wanted to leave the place already. But right now, that wasn’t an option. _Isaac._ Bewildered, I whipped my head around to find the source of the sound but found nothing.

    “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Saw something?”

    “Yeah,” I replied. “Well, I thought I heard something but I guess it’s just my mind playing tricks on me.”

    “It happens.” Scottie looked down at his camera before continuing, “So, Lee’s office then?”

    “Yeah, he might have something in there.”

    Without exchanging another word, I went ahead and walked to his office, leading the way as Scottie followed me behind, aiming his camera around and taking photos of the church. Meanwhile, I was preoccupied with the thought of being caught, Luckily, neither of us had come across any church servants along the way. Still, the worst case scenario would be seeing Laurie here, or possibly Lee. As we began to approach the office, I slowly pushed the door open and looked around the room, checking to be sure that Lee or Laurie wasn’t in there. When I made it clear that it was safe to go in, Scottie barged in there and took a few more photos, distracted by the disorganized workspace.

    “Y’know, I expected it to be a little messier than this,” Scottie started, “but then again, it probably does suit him.”

    I nodded, turning my focus to the bookcase. It was just as messy the last time I saw it, only the photo album wasn’t there. I was about to search for it until I heard Scottie let out a chuckle.

    “Man, he sure was an ugly fella then,” he commented. I turned again and saw that he was sitting at Lee’s desk, flipping through the pages of the photo album. He pointed at another one, smirking, “You’ve seen this shit?”

    I walked over in a hurry to see what he was talking about, but it turned out that he found the photo of Lee kissing Jeong. I wasn’t mad at him, but seeing the picture pained me.

    “Shut up,” I sneered, lightly hitting his shoulder. “And get off your ass, you can’t just sit around all day and look at that! There’s nothing to look at.”

    “Damn, okay,” he said, getting up out of the seat. “You could’ve just said it made you upset looking at that picture.”

    “I know but . . .” I sighed, unable to finish what I had to say. I went back to the bookshelf, looking at the spines of the books while Scottie walked around the room to look for anything peculiar. The collection of books that Lee kept were quite odd in this setting; every book that I found so far were associated with the arts, fashion, illustration, and interior design. I thought they belonged to Laurie, but there were no books that had to do with photography of any sort. If they weren’t Laurie’s, then why were they in Lee’s office?

    “Hey, Isaac,” Scottie called, “come take a look at this.”

    Scottie was going through one of the drawers that stood by Lee’s desk, holding a small book in his hand. It appeared to be in good condition, but the title of the book was carved, reading the word journal in big, capitalized letters. I was tempted to read it, but even though there was no way Lee could find out that I read it, I felt something watch over me again. I stared at the front cover for another moment before opening it, the spine of the book cracking as if it hadn’t been opened in years. I began reading the first entry, which dated back to 1970.

 

 _September 5, 1970_ —

 _I always thought keeping a diary or whatever was kinda stupid, but I figured that I would keep one since I’m starting out fresh. Anyway, my name is_ _Reagan Jo Maddox_ _. I was born on May 20, 1952 (I’m 18) and I’m a freshman at the University of Chicago. I haven’t made any friends yet, but that’s fine. I know there are people out there who are like me, who think the same way as me. It’s 1 AM now, so I’m gonna stop writing now._

 

 _November 10_ —

_Sorry for not writing, college has been kicking my ass. I’ve been making good grades though, and I finally made a new friend! Sounds depressing, I know, but at least I’m not a loser. Her name is Jeong and she told me she moved here from South Korea. She can speak some English but I’m helping her learn. That’s how we became friends in the first place. I don’t know much about her, except for the fact that she was born in France. She’s a freshman too, older than me by a few months. She has been one of the nicest people I’ve met on campus so far, which has been a breath of fresh air compared to what I had to deal with high school. I really hope we become good friends._

 

    It felt strange to read these now, knowing how Lee acted now in the present. Instead of sounding cocky and aggressive, his tone sounded hopeful and perhaps innocent. I wasn’t entirely sure, but from reading those two journal entries, he sounded like a completely different person. As Scottie continued to look through the drawers, I took a seat on the couch nearby, turning the page over to read the next entry. It was from 1971, the year Lee and Jeong started dating.

 

 _May 25, 1971_ —

_Sorry that I haven’t been writing. I lost this journal for some reason but I found it while moving out of my dorm, thank God. Also, remember Jeong? We’re dating now. It seems so soon, but I had never met someone who . . . what’s the word? Appreciated me? I mean, I have some of my other friends now too, but there’s just something special about Jeong and I. No one but ourselves can understand each others’ struggles. It’s as if we are meant to be. Are we soulmates? Maybe. We’ll see what the future holds for us._

 

    He still sounded as hopeful as ever, but when I moved onto the next journal entry, that’s when his optimism started to waver away.

 

 _September 1_ —

_I really hate myself right now. I told Jeong about my beliefs today and she told me that it was bullshit. My other friends believed in me, but why not her?! I couldn’t tell if she was serious or not, but it hurt me either way. Why would she say something like that?_

 

 _September 20_ —

_The more I talk about it, the more Jeong tries to persuade me to give it all up, telling me that it’s nonsense. But it’s not! I saw it in a dream. It told me that it’ll enslave the human race one day unless we make a big sacrifice and preach its word. None of this is a joke, it’s all real, I swear! I even saw it while coming home for Christmas last year. I saw it on the side of the road. I couldn’t see it well, but I knew what it was when it started at me with those piercing red eyes. It scared the living shit outta me, and I’ll never forget that._

 

    “But who is ‘it?’” I mumbled, turning another page and began reading the next passage.

 

 _October 31_ —

_I had another weird dream again, where I had a duel with the devil. What could this mean? Hell if I know . . ._

 

 _January 6, 1972_ —

_I love Jeong so much, I never want to hurt her._

 

 _April 3_ —

_I have done it! My friends and I have started preaching the word! Jeong isn’t happy about this, but it’s for the greater good of humanity! Everyone should be aware of Lamia’s existence, that it’s going to come down to Earth one day and punish us unless we do something about it. I feel quite . . . odd, but I’m fine, I swear!_

 

 _October 20_ —

_Last night, I made love to Jeong one last time before I left and dropped out of college. Today, my new group of followers and I found the Modern Days’ Church of Lamia. Reagan is no more. My name is Lee. I don’t feel real at times, but I am alive._

 

    What the hell could that mean?

 

 _December 25_ —

_Merry Christmas! I love being alive!_

 

 _January 20, 1975_ —

_I’ve been declared as a public threat to the city of Chicago. Great. Did you guys not study the First Amendment in school or what? This city can rot in hell._

 

 _September 12_ —

_I met a photographer named Laurie Lamar and he said he’ll do a photo shoot at my apartment. I’m excited, and he’s kind of handsome. I wish I could draw a picture of him, but I don’t have time._

 

    “Wait a minute,” I said to myself. “Then that means—”

    Before I could announce my discovery, both Scottie and I heard someone moaning seductively above us. The tone was a bit feminine, but we could both guess who it was when they screamed, “Laurie!” Blood rushed to my cheeks as I accidentally dropped the journal. I looked across the room and saw that Scottie was blushing a bit too, looking embarrassed.

    “You heard that, too?” he asked for confirmation.

    “Yup,” I admitted, picking up the book, walking back to the drawer to put it away. “I think I’ve seen and heard enough.”

    “Yeah, we oughta get going now.” Scottie picked his camera off the desk, taking a book with him as well.

    “Scottie, are you really stealing that?!” I whispered to him. “Lee’s gonna kill you!”

    “Relax, dude, he has more copies of this damn thing,” he told me. “I don’t think he could give two shits about it. Besides, it’s the same book those muggers tried to give me.”

    “If you say so.”

    After leaving his office, we picked up the pace and headed to where the main door was located, escaping through the windows. Once Scottie closed the screen window, we made a run for it to his car, fearing that Lee would somehow run after us, even though he and Laurie had no clue that we broke into the church. When the both of us got into the car and drove away, we let out a huge sigh of relief.

    “Jesus Christ,” I groaned. “I’m so glad we’re out of there.”

    “I know, right?” Scottie agreed. “I was nervous the whole time being there, but hearing Lee make those noises gave me second-hand embarrassment.”

    “God, yeah. I mean, I think I got a boner just from hearing that.”

    Scottie burst into laughter from my confession.

    “Don’t worry, you’ll be able to jack off when we get back to the place,” he joked.

    “Shut up!” I shouted, laughing a bit afterward. After that day, the whole situation became an inside joke between Scottie and me.


	15. Jeong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: heavy drug use (weed) and mentions of parents death and car accidents.

    “Morning, Scottie!” I greeted him, seeing that he was sitting on the couch with coffee in one hand and held a book in another. “And Merry Christmas!”

    “You too, Jeong,” he replied, blowing on his drink a bit to cool it down. “Is Isaac still asleep?”

    “He has work this morning, remember? He’s only working for four hours though.”

    “Good for him.”

    I took a seat next to him on the couch, noticing that the news was on the TV despite him not paying attention to it. Instead, he was busy reading . . . I couldn’t read the back of the manga. I only recognized what it was judging by the Japanese that was written on it, but I didn’t know a lick of Japanese to understand what Scottie was reading. From the looks of it, the manga was published not too long ago.

    “Whatcha got there?” I asked him. He closed it, inserting his index finger in place of where he left off at.

    “One of my favorite stories of all time,” he replied. “It’s called Devilman. Have you ever read it?”

    “Not that I remember.” The book, like I had thought earlier, looked fairly new. “How long ago was it written?”

    “It’s kinda recent,” he stated. “When I first came to Japan back in . . . ‘73? Yeah. In 1973, I had a few co-workers there that read it, and they were talking about the ending of it. The story had only been going on for a year then, so I think it was published four years ago.”

    “Ohh,” I realized. “Yeah, I know that back in Korea, they sold mangas there too, but they were translated into Korean. I left South Korea after I finished high school, so I never got the chance to read it.”

    “It’s really good, Jeong!” Scottie said enthusiastically. “I loved it, even though the ending kinda gave me a crisis.”

    “Why, what happened?”

    “I’m not gonna say what happened, but I really loved the overall theme.”

    “And what is that?”

    He placed the manga down on the coffee table, pulling back his fingers from between the pages. He stared back at the TV, which showed the year in review.

    “It has an anti-war theme, which I can really see from my point of view,” he explained. “And then there’s this girl in the story, Miki. I can’t explain the rest without giving it all away but she reminded me of Maddie so much.”

    I noticed that he had stopped paying attention to the news, looking at the manga again with a sadden expression. Remembering what he told me about Maddie, I could already guess what happened to Miki.

    “Did she had a boyfriend?” I asked, waiting for answers. Scottie reached out and grabbed the book, flipping through the pages until he stopped and looked over one specific panel. It showed a guy and girl, that I assumed to be Miki, walking to school. She was questioning the boy, noticing that his appearance had altered and stated that he acted more confident and courageous than before.

    “I don’t think Akira, the boy, was interested in her romantically,” he claimed, “but they were very good friends, like how Maddie and I were before we started dating, y’know?”

    “Yeah, it makes sense,” I nodded my head.

    “Good. Man, I wish I could talk about this more, but I’ll tear up just thinking about it.”

    “It’s alright,” I apologized, laying my hand on his shoulder and rubbing it. “I’ll change the subject then, okay?”

    Before I could change the topic of the conversation, the front door opened and Isaac walked in quickly, trying the close the door in a hurry before the cold could blow in. Once he slammed it shut, he leaned against it, appearing to be exhausted. However, he was still in a cheery mood early this morning.

    “Merry Christmas, guys!” he smiled, waving at the two of us.

    “I thought you had work this morning?” Scottie questioned. “What happened to that?”

    “Oh yeah, that.” He locked the door, then heading to the kitchen. “Any of you want hot chocolate?”

    “Meeee!” I raised my voice, getting up and heading to my room after. When I came into my room, my gift for Isaac still laid on my bed stand. I wrapped the vinyl record just last night, but it was done more neatly this time. I retrieved it and left the room, with the aroma of the hot chocolate traveling up my nose. I sighed, craving for the drink already. When I walked into the kitchen, Isaac stood there coatless while waiting for the hot chocolate to be done in the microwave.

    I was about to sneak up behind him and scare him, but I looked closer and saw that he held some sort of invitation in his hand. The texture of the paper appeared to be smooth and bumpy, and the edges of the invitation were lined with beautiful gold foil. I didn’t pay attention to what the invitation said, but the typography was in a thin font but everything was written in uppercase letters.

    “Whatcha got there?” I whispered to him. He was a bit startled by my unexpected presence, jumping back at my response while taking a glimpse of the gift that I held. He shoved the paper into his back pocket, pretending I didn’t see anything.

    “Well, you tell me whatcha got first,” he teased me, holding my chin gently so he could try to kiss me. I turned away, giggling as I pushed his hand away and booped his nose. He chuckled while the microwave was beeping, finished heating up the beverage.

    “That’s for you,” he told me, grabbing an oven mitt nearby to get my mug out of the microwave without burning himself. He placed it on the counter, waiting for it to cool down as he continued the conversation.

    “I’m gonna guess: is that for me?”

    “Yes, actually,” I blushed. “You’re so lucky I bought this in time because all the copies sold out.”

    “Well, damn, must be a good album then.”

    “Oh, you’re definitely gonna love this one.”

    Once I collected my mug, I gestured him to follow me into the living room. We sat down on the couch with Scottie, who still sat there reading the Devilman books but was aware that Isaac was about to open his present. Even though there was no possible way that Isaac would guess what it was, he gently shook the vinyl as the record slid back and forth in the sleeve. He gave up, asking me if I could drop him any hints.

    “You know I’m bad at giving hints!” I grunted, putting my mug down on the table.

    “C’mon!” he begged, bumping my shoulder with his elbow. “Just one hint is all.”

    “Ughhh, fine!”

    I paused for a minute, trying to come up with a vague, yet helpful hint to give Isaac enough knowledge to figure out what album it was. I felt stupid for not figuring out a solution, but then it came to me in a flash. I clasped my hands together, ready to drop my hint.

    “Okay,” I started, “it has to do with loving somebody.”

    “What?!” he blurted, followed by Scottie’s snickering. “That is so unfair! You damn well know there are a million songs out there about love.”

    “But think about the wording,” I pointed out. “Break it down and put it together. It’s basically a puzzle.”

    Isaac stared at me dumbfoundedly, still puzzled by the context of my hint. He thought hard about it for a couple of seconds, having a mental debate with himself. While he wasn’t taken by surprise, he started grinning. Asking if he could open his gift now, I nodded and he immediately tore the wrapping paper that covered the edge of the album. When he tore the piece off, a coal black color could be seen and his grin widened. He began to tear the wrapping paper to shreds, eager to see if it was the album he had in mind. When he swept the paper aside, it revealed to be Queen’s newly-released album, _A Day at the Races_. I saw Scottie smile at him, drinking a sip of coffee from his mug as he watched Isaac’s eyes widen in excitement. Isaac set the record down on the table, hugging me with all the strength he had in his muscles.

    “I love you so much,” he cooed. “Thank you so much.”

    “I love you, too,” I replied, giving his cheekbone a kiss as he let go of me. He pressed his lips against mine for a few seconds, the two of us engaged in a passionate kiss.

    “Get a room, you two!” Scottie interrupted, sounding disgusted.

    “Ay, there’s no need to be grouchy on Christmas,” Isaac snapped. “I’m surprised you’re not smoking early this morning.”

    “I might now that you’ve mentioned it.” Scottie turned away from Isaac, staring back at his book before his expression turned sour. “I’m sorry,” he sighed, gulping down more coffee before he resumed the conversation. “I miss her, I just want her back.”

    “I know,” I said. “But I know you’ll be able to move on someday.”

    “Yeah but today is not the day.” He sat up and placed his coffee mug down on the table, stretching his arms out and sank back into the couch. “Anyway, what took you so long to drive back here, Isaac?” he asked. “There’s no snow out today.”

    “Ohh that,” he remembered, not sounding too thrilled about the question. “Well, I thought I had work this morning, but when I got there I found out that we were closed for the day.”

    “And what happened? Did you got caught in traffic?” I inquired.

    He shook his head no.

    “Before I went back into my car, some guy dragged me into an ally and—”

    “Isaac!” I gasped. “Why didn’t you just run?!”

    “I didn’t have time to!” he added. “It wasn’t some stranger either, it was Lee! He just appeared outta nowhere!”

    “Did he hurt you?!”

    “No, he—”

    I grabbed Isaac’s arm and rolled up his sleeve, skimming over his arm to check for any wounds he had. I let that arm go and checked the other, which didn’t possess any injuries either. I was about to pull up his shirt and take it off him, but he pushed my hands away and his face burned red afterward.

    “I’m fine, I-I swear!” he stuttered. “He wouldn’t have the guts to anyway!”

    “Well, what happened back there?!” I said, urging him to give me answers.

    He shifted in his seat, leaning forward to gain a glance of the soft brown liquid that filled the mug. He watched the trails of steam crawl up, piercing the air before he blew them away with his breath, destroying the path. Isaac sighed, reaching into his back pocket to retrieve the invitation that I saw earlier. The design of the invitation looked the same as before, but the front appeared to be blank.

    “He gave this to me in the ally,” Isaac continued. “He said that it was a Christmas present.”

    “For you?” I assumed.

     He shook his head.

    “For me?!” my eyes widened in concern.

    “Not even close,” he said. “It’s for all three of us.”

    Scottie, who was in the middle of drinking the rest of his coffee, nearly spat out his drink but resorted to coughing it back up in his mug. He coughed up a storm for a moment, but as soon as he caught his breath, he looked at Isaac as if he were crazy.

    “A present, from that fool?!” he blurted. “Not in a million years am I taking that!”

    “Dude shut the fuck up,” Isaac commanded. “I already looked at the invitation and I guarantee you there’s nothing wrong with it.”

    “An invitation?” I repeated. “For what?”

    Isaac passed the invitation to me, remaining silent about the matter. I held the smooth paper carefully in my hands, peering closely at my reflection in the gold foil as I ran my thumb slowly over the tiny bumps of the paper. I slipped a finger under the front fold, opening the invitation a few centimeters at a time before revealing the message. I started at it blankly, reading over it once or twice before reading it aloud to Isaac and Scottie:

 

_You are formally invited to a New Years’ Party hosted by Lee, otherwise known as the leader of the Modern Days’ Church of Lamia._

 

_The party will be held at the MDCL, on December 31, 1976._

 

_9 PM - 3 AM_

 

_Guests welcomed by invite only._

 

    “Is this some kind of joke?” Scottie retorted. “He’s gotta be kidding.”

    “I think it’s for real,” Isaac assumed. “He didn’t say much to me, but he said he hoped to see us Friday.”

    “ _Or just me,_ ” I thought. From my knowledge, I doubt that he would want to see Isaac or Scottie again, so he might only be doing this for me. But after some quick thinking, attending the party didn’t seem like a bad idea after all.

    “I think we should go,” I suggested.

    “Are you crazy?!” Scottie objected, staring at me wide-eyed. “Why should I?”

    “I didn’t say you have to go, I said I think we should go,” I repeated. I stopped paying attention to Scottie, looking down at the invitation as I leaned back in my seat. “ _Why is he so goddamn stubborn?_ ” I nagged in my mind. I knew that he didn’t know Reagan personally like I did, but I wish that he would refrain himself from being judgmental at times.

    “Jeong’s right, Scottie,” Isaac backed me up, getting up off the couch with the album still in his hands. “I know you don’t feel safe around him, but you can’t just sit there in your comfort zone all day. You can never get work done that way.”

    “Are you calling me a pussy?” Scottie claimed, nearly slamming his mug down on the coffee table.

    “No! I’m just sayin’ that if you got out of the house every day, we wouldn’t be having this argument.”

    “Oh, so now you’re calling me lazy?”

    “Man, just shut up!” I yelled, sitting up straight. I already felt guilt eating me up, but I knew that the argument would’ve gone downhill if I didn’t step in. Immediately, I apologized to Scottie. “I’m sorry, Scottie, but we have to do this. We’re just trying to help you.”

    Nothing else was said about the matter as Scottie stared at me and Isaac. His soft brown eyes, piercing our gazes with bitter judgment. When I thought this was about to go downhill, Scottie slowly got up off the couch and retrieved his mug, looking down into it to see that it was empty now. He frowned at the sight, then looked up at us.

    “I guess I’ll go,” he said wearily. “But I still don’t trust him.”

    “You don’t have to!” I groaned. “Listen, I knew Reagan before any of this ever happened. I respect your decision to not trust him, but can you at least have some fucking empathy for me?”

    He looked away from me once again, unsure what to do at this point. As he stood there in silence, Isaac walked away from us and walked down the hallway, going back to his room to let us handle the argument ourselves. I didn’t bother to continue the conversation; getting into a full-on fight with Scottie was one of the last few things I wanted to do on this earth. He sighed, looking at me with tears welling up in his eyes. He wiped them away before they could roll down, sniffling before he went on.

    “Have I always been this cold, Jeong?” he mumbled.

    I stared at him with uncertainty, trying to remember the last time Scottie acted genuinely. Either my memory was horrible or that I didn’t know him that long enough, I couldn’t recall such a time. Instead of jumping to conclusions, I asked him this:

    “Well, I don’t know you as much as Isaac does, so who am I to judge?”   

    “Why do you say that?” he asked.

    “It would be wrong of me to misjudge you. Don’t you think it would be fair if you explained yourself?”

    He looked at me dead in the eye, beginning to realize things. The handle of the mug slipped away from his grasp, but he caught it in time before it crashed onto the floor. While I knew that he didn’t care if something happened to the mug, his face displayed an emotion of surprise.

    “You’re right,” he said. “I shouldn’t be so quick to judge. I’m sorry.”

* * *

 

    Friday night had arrived sooner than ever and surprising to say, I was actually excited about the party. Not that I was happy to see Reagan again, with how he’s been doing from what I’ve heard, but I was able to have the day off from work to spend New Years’ with my boyfriend. I knew that tonight none of us were going to spend the night alone in our rooms, begging for another chance in life and praying for a more decent year. I knew that poor Scottie might when we get back from the party since he wasn’t so lucky this year. I just hoped to God that it doesn’t get any worse for him. If he ended up dying somehow, I don’t know what I would do then. Perhaps I would space out for weeks again.

    It was only eight o’clock that night, but Scottie was already panicking a bit while Isaac was still getting ready.

    “C’mon, man. Hurry!” he squealed, shaking his hands as he paced back and forth in front of the bathroom door. “I don’t wanna get caught in bad traffic again!”

    “Be easy on him, Scottie,” I said. “It’s been a few years since he’s been to a party. He’s still wary of them.”

    “Well . . .” he was about to ignite an argument, but then remembered what I said on Christmas Day and groaned. “Nevermind. Honestly, I haven’t laid my hand on a gun since Maddie died.”

    “I don’t think that’s weird,” I opined. “Since my parents died, I can’t hear anything about car accidents or I’ll zone out more than usual.”

    “Like for how long?”

    “I’ll go on for hours usually.”

    “Damn, that must suck . . .”

    After Scottie was through with talking, the door opened and Isaac walked out of the bathroom. When he revealed himself, I thought I was about to die of a heart attack when I saw how gorgeous he was. Isaac was the most handsome man I had ever encountered, but dear God he looked so heavenly. He dressed in all white, with his trousers, jacket, and dress shirt all matching, with the black collar of his dress shirt standing out. The collar was popped, and another button was undone as well, revealing a portion of his clean chest. To top it all off, he wore a gold chain necklace, which I thought suited him well. I caught another glimpse of his chest, and that’s when he caught me looking at it, but smiled back at me.

    “Like what you see, baby?” he chuckled. “I have to admit, you look stunning.”

    His eyes skimmed over my body, seeing that I was wearing a white sequin dress that matched his outfit. I smiled in response to his comment.

    “Thank you,” I giggled.

    “So are the both of ya ready to go?” Scottie interrupted. “I just gotta get something outta my room but otherwise I’m ready to leave.”

    “Yeah, I think so,” Isaac clarified. “And do you have a lighter? I lost mine the other day.”

    “Yeah, that’s one of the things I’m getting. You two head out to the car now, I’ll be there in a minute.”

    We both left the house without question, and I immediately regretted not wearing a coat out in the freezing weather. Isaac was about to take off his coat to give it to me, but I declined his offer and thanked him for his generosity. Since Scottie had turned on his car thirty minutes before, it was already warm inside when I took a seat in the back. As we waited for Scottie, Isaac pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket to count how many cigarettes he had left.

    “You still smoke?” I inquired. He looked over his shoulder to talk to me.

    “Yeah, but only once a week,” he said. “I’m thinking about quitting.”

    Scottie came out of the house just in time, holding the car keys in one hand and what appeared to be a solid black container in the other. I didn’t know what the contents of the container were, but once Scottie got inside the car and tossed the container to Isaac, he had a disgusted look on his face.

    “Man, no, you can’t bring this shit,” Isaac objected. “What if we get pulled over?”

    “It’s never happened to me,” Scottie claimed. “That container keeps the smell in anyway.”

    “What, what’s in that thing?” I asked.

    “Weed,” Scottie said straightforward.

    “Which is absolutely fucking illegal,” Isaac stated, sounding panicky. “Please, man, put it back in the house.”

    “Isaac, listen,” he advised, speaking in a calm manner. “I’m not gonna smoke all of this by myself. I’m gonna give some to Lee!”

    I smacked my palm into my face, shaking my head and cringing.

    “What, does he not smoke?” Scottie asked, upon seeing my reaction.

    “He does,” I confirmed, “but maybe you shouldn’t offer him any.”

    “Why not?”

    “Because I said so!”

    “Okay, okay, calm down guys,” Isaac interrupted us. “Let’s . . . just drop this conversation and drive to the party. Scottie, I don’t care if you smoke. But if you do anything that gets me killed somehow, I’ll come back to haunt your ass.”

    “Alright,” Scottie accepted it.

    After backing out of the driveway, we drove into town and waited for the traffic ahead. Surprisingly, the traffic was much lighter than expected once we reached the city, so we had a few minutes left to head on over to the church. Though I was freezing to death, I didn’t want to borrow Isaac’s coat since we were going to be inside in a bit. Once we started to approach the door in the cold, miserable ally, we saw that the cross was titled to signal that there was no mass for tonight. However, we could detect various noises from inside.

    “It’s already nine,” Scottie stated, looking down at his watch. “Did they started early?”

    “I guess so,” I assumed. “Reagan has never thrown a party before obviously.”

    Without further hesitation, I pressed the doorbell, hoping that he would come in less than a minute so that I could get out of the cold. I swore my fingers were about to get frostbite until the door open and the bright lights started pouring out into the dark, making Reagan’s appearance dramatic yet angelic. He dressed nicely like the rest of us, wearing black trousers and a jacket and wore a light blue dress shirt. His golden hoop earrings were gone but were replaced with diamond studs, and he still wore the same medallion, as if it were some sort of trademark. He appeared to be wearing makeup as well, but I couldn’t tell since the shadows enveloped him.

    “You actually came,” he said, sounding pleased with us. “Well, come along now, I don’t want any of you to freeze to death!”

    I rushed inside to escape the cold embrace, but I nearly tripped on the way in. Luckily for me, Reagan caught me in time before I could faceplant the ground. However, once I looked up, I realized that my face was centimeters away from his bare chest. He had three buttons down, exposing more skin than Isaac. I blushed in sheer embarrassment but was unable to move until Isaac came up behind me and pulled me away from Reagan. He didn’t seem mad at me when I turned to speak to him, but he sounded concerned.

    “Are you alright?” he asked.

    I nodded, not sure what else I was supposed to say. I turned again to face Reagan, who seemed a little surprised. I could see his makeup more clearly now, but it was done more naturally. His lashes were coated with a thick layer of black mascara and his eyelids were covered in brown eyeshadow, which was nicely done. I could barely see his cheekbones, but I knew he wasn’t one to contour, and though his natural lip color was a pale pink, his lips were coated with a red that looked close to the shade of blood. Soon enough, he forgot about what happened and smiled at us, his eyes focusing on me.

    “Well, that was awkward, wasn’t it?” he said, laughing nervously afterward. “Anyway, it’s nice to see you all again! Mr. Marnon, close the door behind you if you can, please.”

    Already Scottie was out of it, and he wasn’t even high. Obeying Reagan’s command, he slammed the door shut and locked it for security.

    “Thank you very much,” Reagan thanked him. “Let’s get going now, the party’s just getting started!”

    “Yeah, we could tell,” Scottie remarked. “We heard it while standing out there.”

    “Really?!” Reagan looked startled again. “How loud is it?”

    “Oh, it’s not bad, it was just a low rumble kinda if that makes sense.”

    “Okay, I’m good then!” His frown transformed into a grin, relieved by the news. “This is only my party for the second year in a row, but we were a little wild last year.” He chuckled, but Isaac didn’t seem happy when he heard that.

    “Um, what do you mean by that?” Isaac asked for clarification, worried about what was to come next.

    “Oh, don’t worry!” Reagan patted Isaac’s back, trying to comfort him. “It’s nothing wrong, really. If it’s drugs you’re worried about, I absolutely forbid the use of those in the church. But I do have one exception . . .”

    Without another word, we followed Reagan and turned right, hearing the noises grow more audible as we walked down the hallway. Most of it sounded like talking, but I could hear the music barely penetrating the walls. Once we reached the doors, Reagan slowly turned the doorknob and started opening one of them, cracking one inch at a time. I decided to open the other door myself, and when both doors were fully opened, my jaw nearly dropped.

    I was nearly blinded by the small, white flash that hovered across my face, which came from the shimmering disco ball that floated above the dance floor nearby. The entire room was lit up by the red and yellow lights that were on the ceiling as well, with some extra lights hanging on the wall where the dance floor was located. I shifted my focus to another spot in the room and found a bar. Confused by this sighting, I walked further into the room and observed my surroundings for a minute. For a moment, I sensed deja vu, but then it all came back to me when I looked at the bar again; we were at the Mallory Tavern. And everywhere I looked, quite a few guests had a joint in their hand. Whether you were smoking or not in the building, the smell of it was inescapable. I wasn’t shocked by the sight anymore, but it finally occurred to me that the church and the club were linked together.

    “The, the,” I stuttered, “the, the Mallory Tavern is, is connect to the, uh, church?”

    “Of course, it is!” Reagan piped up, clasping his hands together. “Remember that night when I told you I owned this place?”

    “Wait, you run the Mallory Tavern?!” Scottie asked, interrupting the conversation. I turned around and saw that he held the black container in his right hand. Isaac was behind him, looking distressed. “How come I didn’t know this in the first place?”

    “Oh, you fell for it like everyone else did,” Reagan explained.

    “Well, fuck. But anyway, you don’t care if I smoke?”

    “Go ahead!”

    “Alright. I’ll be in the bathroom if anyone needs me.”

    And with that, Scottie left the building and headed to the bathroom; Isaac followed him, which left me all alone with Reagan once again. He rested his hand on my shoulder, but I brushed it off and avoided all eye contact. I couldn’t see him, but I knew from the tone of his voice that he sounded disappointed with me.

    “I only wanna dance,” he said.

    I frowned, wanting to cry at that very moment. I refused to speak another word to him, walking to the closest table near me and took a seat. Reagan followed, sitting in the seat across from me to keep me company. I obviously didn’t enjoy his presence now, placing my head in my hands while I looked down at the presumably white cloth.

    “Just tell me what’s wrong,” he begged. “I’ll do anything, any—”

    “All of this!” I nearly raised my voice, raising my arms. “This club, that church, your gang— it’s horrible!”

    “Jeong, sweetie—”

    “I don’t love you anymore!” I was full on yelling now, but I didn’t care. Reagan was living in a fantasy, and I had to pull him out of it. “I just want us to be friends again, but I can’t have you living like this!”

    “But I’m doing fine now, hun,” he claimed. “Seriously, I can’t remember the last time I wanted to kill myself.”

    “That’s a big fucking lie.” I was pointing my finger at him now, not dealing with it any longer. “You always need to be near weed or something to calm yourself down.”

    “I don’t recall such a thing.”

    Before I could have my outburst, Isaac and Scottie came over to the table and sat down. I noticed that Scottie held a joint between his fingers, bringing it to his mouth again before he pulled it away and blow a big puff of smoke. Some of the smoke flew by Reagan and made him cough a bit, but he sat there and grinned, eventually sniffing the smell. After a minute passed by, Reagan reached for the inside of his coat and produced a smaller black book in his hands, throwing it down on the table.

    “Mr. Marnon,” he started, “mind if you hand me that joint?”

    Scottie looked hesitant to hand it over to him at first, but then he mumbled something under his breath and passed it over to Reagan.

    “You do you,” Scottie replied. “I’ll roll up another one for myself.” Already, he pulled some paper out of the pocket of his coat and pried open the container, grabbing the contents and sprinkled the drug onto the tiny sheet of paper. I exchanged a glance of concern with Isaac, who didn’t even bother pulling out his box of cigarettes to join in with the others. Meanwhile, Reagan flipped through the pages of his book and brought the joint to his lips, breathing in the chemicals of the drug. He pulled it away and exhaled a long trail of white smoke, passing the joint so suddenly to Isaac. Knowing he didn’t want to smoke, he only sat there holding it between his fingers, preparing himself to listen to what Reagan was about to say.

    “I’d like to thank you guys for coming!” he said cheerfully. “I thought it would be an appropriate time to give you some advice for the upcoming new year.”

    “What would that be then?” Isaac raised a brow.

    “Would you . . .” Reagan thought about it for a second before continuing. “Are you going to smoke some of that?”

    Isaac rapidly blinked his eyes, trying to register what Reagan had just said. He gulped hard, baring for the worst.

    “Oh, um, umm,” he stuttered, “I, ahem— I haven’t smoked in a while.”

    “How long?” Reagan asked.

    “Four years now.”

    “Oh, you’ll be fine then!”

    “Are you sure?”

    He didn’t utter an exact answer but nodded his head, gesturing at Isaac to smoke before he could go on. But before Isaac could have a chance to smoke, Reagan snatched it out of his hand and threw it right down on the ground, stomping the shit out of it. I was shocked for a moment and nearly hollered at the top of my lungs, but I looked over at Scottie; he wasn’t bothered by the scene, but was chuckling instead and clapped his hands. Reagan then reached for the inside of his own coat and pulled out a slim container, popping it open to reveal some more weed. He pulled out a slip of paper as well, fixing up a longer but fatter joint. He grabbed a lighter from his coat and lit it up, handing it to Isaac.

    “Try that,” he recommended. “I’m telling you, the high is incredible . . .”

    From the look of his eyes, I knew that Isaac didn’t want to relapse after all of these years. Weed wasn’t such a trigger for him, but he was deathly afraid of ending up in the same spot four years before. Regardless, he went ahead and brought it to his mouth, breathed in, and exhaled a sigh of relief as the smoke poured out of his mouth like crazy.

    “God . . .” he sighed. Right away, Isaac passed the joint to me, which I held in my hand for the time being as I waited for Reagan to continue the conversation.

    “Anyway,” he finally resumed, “what was I talking about? Oh right, the new year. I wanted to give you all some advice. Hopefully, it can be deemed as useful!”

    “Yeah, yeah,” Scottie complained. “Let’s just get this over with, I’m ready to go home already.”

    “Can’t you be patient for just one minute, Marnon?”

    Scottie sank further into his chair, crossing his arms like he was a bratty child.

    “Whatever, go on I guess,” he mumbled.

    “Alright,” Reagan said, pulling Scottie’s joint out of his hand. He breathed it in and let out another puff of smoke, sighing. “So . . . how did we come together in the first place?”

    The three of us sat in loud silence, zoning out to the music as we waited for Reagan’s pending answer.

    “Love, people, love!” he preached, waving his free hand around as he took another hit. “Mutual love, respect, curiosity! Are you clueless?”

    “I’m just . . . kinda sleepy,” Isaac yawned, resting his forehead in the palm of his hand.

    “I see, but anyway, our first encounter was kinda awkward, wasn’t it? Remember when you suspected I was a Satanist? Curiosity drove us all apart then, but tonight it’s reunited us, and now I want to tie those ropes of friendship.”

    “Reagan,” I interrupted, almost slamming my hand on the table, “just what in the hell are you talking about?”

    Reagan didn’t reply but gave me a menacing glare as he stood up from his seat. I stood up as well, trying to see what his next motive could possibly be. However, he stood there for a good solid minute before he leaned a few inches forward to reach for his book. But before he could get his hands on it, Isaac snatched it in a flash and took off running to the opposite side of the tavern. Scottie jumped up out of his seat and flipped the entire table, with the sound of the crash echoing throughout the entire club. Without wasting another second, Scottie ran in the same direction Isaac went in and I followed, throwing the blunt down on the ground and stomped on it. I almost went back to retrieve Scottie’s container but decided to forget about it when I saw Reagan coming my way. I screamed, running for dear life and hoped to find Isaac and Scottie.

    I nearly tripped many times while running in my heels, leading me to ditch them when I had enough of it. I pushed, shoved, and even punched a few of the clubgoers as I ran away from Reagan. As I began to approach Isaac and Scottie, who finally found an exit, I started to slow down to catch my breath. When I reached the window, Scottie allowed me to head on out first so Reagan wouldn’t catch me. Once I wiggled my way out and fell to the cold, hard ground of the alleyway, Isaac climbed through the window and fell on the way down as well, dirt staining his coat and pants. We were waiting for Scottie to escape, but before he could, Reagan ran up to him and punched him right in his left temple. The punch was pretty cruel, causing Scottie to fall on his side as Reagan fell with him, the two wrestling on the floor now.

    “Scottie!” I cried. “I gotta help him!”

    “No, no don’t!” Isaac protested, grabbing my arm to pull me back. “He can handle this.”

    “No, you can’t! He’s gonna die!”

    I was proven wrong when Scottie managed to squirm his arm out of Reagan’s grasp and punched him square in the jaw. I gasped, surprised by the comeback that I just witnessed. Scottie held Reagan up off the ground, only to knock him back down again. He then rested his knees on top of his shoulders, pinning Reagan down to make sure he didn’t escape. As soon as Reagan was ready to fire back, Scottie’s fist slammed right into the left side of his face once again, then delivering another punch to the right side of his face. By now, I had lost track of how many times he punched Reagan, but I knew he had to stop.

    “Scottie, stop it!” I cried as Isaac went back in to stop him. “Oh my fucking God!”

    I climbed back into the club to help Isaac stop Scottie, the two of us lifting him off of Reagan to end the fighting. All eyes in the room turned to us, trying to process what just happened. Scottie was tempted to punch him one last time, but Isaac blocked the punch with his palm and threw his fist down.

    “Fucking stop it already!” he yelled at him, tears pouring out his eyes now. “Are you that blind?! Look how fucked up he is now!” He violently pointed at Reagan, who was still conscious but couldn’t bear to get up off the ground. His face was decorated with bruises, and there was a bit of blood flowing out of his left nostril. While I didn’t have the time to have a full-blown meltdown, tears welled up in my eyes and rolled down my cheeks, dropping to the floor. I couldn’t speak, feeling like I was about to choke on my own words if I did. I let go of Scottie’s arm, with Isaac doing the same. Scottie slowly turned to us, trembling in pure fear, his face filled with utter remorse.

    “I . . . I’m so sorry, Jeong,” his voice cracked, trying hard to be strong.

    I continued to observe Reagan, until a few members of the church surrounded him and lifted him off the ground, leading him back to the church. When they left the building, I turned my attention to Scottie again, whose expression remained unchanged.

    “Don’t you ever fucking do that again,” I wept. I wanted to say something else, but I walked away and climbed through the window. I broke down right there, unable to think about anything else but what just happened. When Isaac and Scottie climbed out of the window and closed it, the two of them huddled around me and gave me the biggest, warmest hug for the night.

    “It’ll be alright, babe,” Isaac whispered. “Let’s go home.”


	16. Isaac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for the following: attempted suicide, demonic possession, and implied sex.

    Scottie had been acting stranger than usual since the beginning of the new year, 1977. It was the end of April now, a few weeks close to my 21st birthday. What he was doing wasn’t that odd, but it was something he started doing so suddenly. He had been smoking less and completely gave up alcohol, which relieved me and Jeong, and was getting out of the house more often. I was glad that he wasn’t moping around anymore, but I was still concerned about his behavior. Scottie was just as stubborn as ever, especially whenever we ask him where he was going when he went out. Some days he would be going to work, but on other days, he wouldn’t give us a definite answer. For the longest time, I wanted to accompany him and see what he was up to, but I knew that it wouldn’t do any good and I didn’t want to get on his nerves. And so I ignored it until I came home to a devastating scene.

    It was April 30th, a Saturday; while I didn’t have work that day, Jeong and I decided to go out into the city to run some errands. There wasn’t a lot to do, but it all took forever since we walked back and forth and drove to a few places. Groceries, new clothes, putting money in the bank, and hair trims were a few things that we had to get done for the day. Right after we walked out of the hair salon, we began driving back home, but it wasn’t long until we got caught in traffic again. However, the timing seemed perfect for Jeong when they inquired me about the book I stole from Lee on New Years’ Eve.

    “So have you read that book of his?”

    “Which one?” I asked. “The one Scottie took or the one that I took?”

    “The smaller black one,” they clarified. “Besides, I already looked through the one that Scottie had. It’s just a book full of prayers and written quotes from Reagan.”

    “Really? How come Scottie didn’t tell me.”

    “I mean, it doesn’t have anything important. And you know Scottie; says he’ll do said thing but will get high instead. He’s really not like that anymore though.”

    I nodded, trying to remember the last time Scottie got high two times a week or more. Within the past month, he had only smoked three times in total. Maybe he finally figured out that it wasn’t working, from my past experience. When the red light flashed green, I drove straight ahead as I carried the conversation.

    “We should read the other book today,” I suggested. “I haven’t been able to these past few months, but I finally have time today.”

    “Me too,” Jeong agreed. “Hopefully it can explain why he decided to start the church in the first place.”

    “Maybe. Let’s just hope it’s not another prayer book or some shit.”

    Not knowing how to continue the conversation, we didn’t speak for the rest of the drive home, until Jeong brought up a completely different subject.

    “Do you think you might go back to college this fall?” they asked.

    Was I going to? I had been so focused on Lee’s case and Scottie’s well-being that I haven’t had a minute to think about school. I know that I was doing better now than I was two years ago, but I wasn’t completely sure about going back.

    “No,” I said bluntly. “Maybe next year. I still wanna continue my studies, but with so much going on right now, it might have to wait.”

    “I agree with you on that,” they replied. “Work has been so stressful for me lately, I’m thinking about quitting again.”

    “Is your boss switching things up again?”

    “Kinda, and some of our other musicians have quit.”

    “That’s a real bummer.”

    The conversation dropped once again and five minutes later, we were home for the day. As Jeong collected some of the groceries, I went up to the front door and unlocked it, swinging it wide open. I then retreated back to the car, grabbing more bags and brought them inside. When I first walked into the house, I expected Scottie to be sitting on the couch in the living room, as usual, watching the news while high or reading one of those Japanese comics of his. But as soon as I put away the groceries and clothes that I brought in, I walked into the living and saw that the couch was vacant. I found it out of the ordinary at first, but then I assumed that he was in his office, working on that project of his. It was three o’clock too, so he was probably having his afternoon nap, or so I thought.

    While I was busy putting away everything else, Jeong was getting ready for work, deciding on which dress they should wear for the night. When I finished putting the last of the groceries away, I walked to Scottie’s office, quietly in case he was still napping. I knocked on the door lightly, waiting for a response. One, two, three seconds passed by, turning into ten and then thirty, and then a full minute passed. I was about to knock on it again, but then barged into the office and saw something unexpected: he wasn’t there. The room was only lit up by the lamp that stood there on his desk, where billions of crumpled-up pieces of paper laid. Only one piece wasn’t and by judging the condition of it, it looked like it was written today. Scottie’s usual handwriting was a bit messy, but he wrote it neatly as if it were something important to remember. I picked up the note, standing near the lamp to read the message.

 

_To: Isaac, Jeong, Jules, my mom, co-workers..._

 

_I’m so sorry, everyone. I tried to live, but now I can’t. I can’t bear to live, I can’t. I tried to see the positive, but everything just keeps killing the optimist in me. I used to be so bright and so kind and so… I was in a better place then. I still had a little faith left even after Maddie died, but it all faded away. All I am now is a stubborn asshole._

 

_All I do is just torture myself, me and myself only. I have cut, smoke, drank, gone to Lee and his boyfriend for sex, burned myself. I even contemplated triggering my peanut allergies but I thought that was pathetic. Anyway, all I’m saying is that I don’t wanna live anymore. My life has no meaning to it, and all I am is a burden to others. Sometimes at night, I wish that Lev shot me instead. Why did Maddie have to go? Why couldn’t it be me?_

 

_I’m so sorry. I really am, but it’s time for me to go. I’ll miss you all, but not the world. It doesn’t deserve me._

 

_Scott Ronnie Marnon_

 

    “No,” I shook my head, dropping the note. “No, no, no! This can’t be happening, this—”

    A blood-curdling scream penetrated the walls of the hallway, nearly bringing me to tears. However, I couldn’t waste another minute and rushed to the source of the noise: the bathroom. I violently swung the door open and saw Scottie jump back, dropping the bloody razor blade on the floor as he fell on his back. I ran over to him, crouching down by him to look at the wound on his arm, which oozed furiously of blood. I didn’t know how to feel for a second, but suddenly I noticed drops of water dripping onto his bloody arm; I was crying, mourning. I lifted Scottie up, propping him to sit up as I hugged him tightly. He groaned from the pain, but I could barely hear him over the sound of my cries.

    “Oh my God, Scottie. Please don’t do this to me, man,” I sobbed. “You, you’re not seriously hurt, are you?!”

    He didn’t respond for a second, making me believe that it was too late.

    “I, I don’t know,” he croaked. “Just leave me alone, I deserve to die.”

    “No you don’t, you son of a bitch!” I was face to face with him now, tears pouring out of my eyes like crazy. “The world will lose a genius if you die!”

    “The world doesn’t deserve me,” he shook his head, gasping. “I-I can’t go on!”

    “Oh my fucking God!” Jeong screamed.

    I turned and saw Jeong, who rushed into the bathroom and sat down next to Scottie. They trailed their fingertips along his right arm, decorated with scars from burning and cutting himself. Without warning, Jeong pried Scottie from my grasp and shifted his body into their arms. They slowly stood up from the ground, still holding him as he struggled to free himself from their tight grasp.

    “Wh-what the fuck are you doing?!” he demanded.

    “Taking you to the hospital, dammit!” they spat, walking out of the bathroom as I followed them.

    “No, no, you can’t do that! They’ll lock me up!” he protested. “They—”

    “Scottie, shut up! We care about you, and we can’t lose you now!”

    “Who’s we?!”

    “Me!” I blurted, pointing to myself and then Jeong. “And Jeong. And if Jules found out what happened to you, they would be devastated. Your mother cares too, man!”

    He was about to object again, but before he could say something he burst into tears, burying his face in his hands. Jeong ran out of the house, opening the car door to put Scottie in the back seat as I ran back into the house to grab a dark towel. When I found one, I sprinted back outside and carefully wrapped it around his arm, telling him to hold onto the towel.

    “Isaac,” he sniffed, “I’m so sorry.”

    “Please don’t be sorry,” I said. “It’s not your fault.”

    “I know but I feel like I’ve ruined my life.”

    Jeong got into the car, slamming the door shut and turning the key to ignite the engine. I closed the other door and remained sitting in the back seat with Scottie, who laid his back against the window.

    “It’ll be okay,” I comforted him. “You’ll get through this and we can fix this.”

    “You swear?” he asked, tears still flowing down his cheeks.

    “I swear, man.”

    While on our way to the hospital, Jeong took the shortest route possible while I watched Scottie, checking to make sure he was fine. For a couple of minutes, he would rest his eyes but still fought hard to stay conscious, aware that he could pass any minute. When we were stuck in traffic and stopped for pedestrians to walk across the street, Jeong turned on the radio, playing the beginning of “Don’t Give Up on Us Baby.” Right away, Scottie opened his eyes again.

    “Isaac,” he spoke to me softly, “what are some reasons to live?”

    “Does it have to be specific?” I asked.

    “No . . . it can be anything. Even they’re just the tiniest, simplest things in life.”

    For me, I already had a billion reasons to keep on living, but as for Scottie, I was certain that he was lost. Already, I gave him a long list of things to look forward to:

    “The sunset,” I began. “Listening to the rain. Taking long walks in the woods while looking at the scenery. Staying up until three in the morning, feeling like you’re at peace with the world. Drinking coffee, reading your favorite book, going for a walk to pick up your favorite dish from your favorite restaurant.”

    I paused for a minute, catching my breath.

    “Watching the snowfall,” Jeong picked up the conversation. “Taking naps. Writing that book you’ve always wanted to write. Reading your favorite book. Watching your favorite movie. Listening to your favorite band. Spending time with your friends. Traveling across the country. Making a new friend. Spending time with your crush . . .”

    When Jeong finished talking, I noticed that Scottie’s eyes were closed. My heart raced for a bit and I mumbled some curses under my breath.

    “I’m still listening,” Scottie whispered, clutching the towel. “Keep going . . .”

    “Appreciate beauty,” I went on. “Make others laugh. Dance, even if you’re bad at it. Write, even if you don’t know what to write. Try something new, even if you’re scared. You can change someone’s life, no matter how small the impact is.”

    Right after the end of that sentence, the light flashed green and the pedestrians left the sidewalk. Driving a little above the speed limit, Jeong went straight ahead, driving like there was no tomorrow for Scottie.

* * *

 

    A week after Scottie’s suicide attempt, we were back at the house, now gathered in the living room to discuss the content of the book that I stole from Lee on New Years’ Eve. None of us had the chance to look at it since then, being busy with work and life in general. But now as my birthday was approaching, I thought that it was about time to know what was going on.

    We all sat down together on the couch, observing the details of the little book; needless to say, it was pretty dull looking. It was painted in a night black color, and due to its years of usage, it was a bit worn out on the edges. Other than that, the book had no markings on it or even a title on it, and Lee didn’t leave a bookmark in it either.

    “What could he be keeping in a book like this?” Scottie inquired. “There’s nothing interesting about it.”

    “That’s the idea,” Jeong added. “Reagan is good at keeping secrets. And he’s just scared of the truth.”

    “That explains a lot,” I said, remembering that scene where he flipped out at the mention of Satanism. “Anyway, let’s look at this already. I’m not putting it off any longer.”

    Gently, I opened it up and flipped it to the first page of the book. It didn’t contain anything important, but only these funny, shocking words written in uppercase letters: “My high school English teacher Mr. Robinson can suck it! I did not deserve to be written up for saying ‘Fuck Nixon’ in class! Hated that fucking moron!” I flipped to the next few pages, coming across blank pages and then more blank pages. Finally, on the twenty-fourth page, there was a journal entry dating back to 1973. Though it was only the first paragraph we came across, something about it spooked me. Jeong and Scottie moved closer next to me, trying to gain a better view of the entry.

 

_May 30, 1973_

 

_I don’t feel like myself. I know that leading this church was all I ever wanted but now . . . I don’t regret it, but I feel like I’m not alone. I feel like something is following me sometimes, especially when I’m out walking at night. Is the government after me already?_

 

    I turned to the next page, where two entries were written.

 

_July 4, 1973_

 

_Lord, please help me. Something is not right with me. I’m not the man I was months or even a year ago. I don’t trust myself anymore. I feel some sort of bad energy within me. I act differently. I used to be worn out and was afraid of danger, but now I’m loaded with bouts of energy and I’m willing to do ANYTHING for the church. But I still feel unsafe. When I go to bed at night, I feel like I’m being watched by some spirit. Is it God? Satan? Will I be punished?_

 

_January 6, 1974_

 

_It is angry with me, I just know it. And it has punished me. I don’t know what I did to piss off Lamia, but it doesn’t like me. And now I’m stuck in this madness forever._

 

    “What the hell?” Scottie stuttered, turning the next page. Just when I thought it couldn’t get anymore eerie, the following entry read this:

 

_February 23, 1975_

 

_I’m a little ill in the head but that’s not what matters right now. Believe it or not, I’m under demonic possession by Lamia itself._

_I only found this out a few days ago, so I’m not completely sure what’s going on. But I do know that this possession is not like any other. I’m still me. My mind and heart and soul is still part of me, but sometimes I cannot control myself. Most importantly, I cannot dismantle the cult. It has threatened to kill me if I do such a thing._

_I’m crying now. Why did I ever thought this was a good idea? Why did I have to take it so far? Why did I leave Jeong? Why did I ruin my life?_

 

    “Ohh, no” Jeong groaned. “No, no, he’s gotta be lying.” Jeong refused to believe what Lee wrote was true, but I turned and saw their eyes watering already. I turned the page one more time, which revealed a lot more than the previous entries.

 

_November 11, 1975_

 

_After doing some research on my own, I have discovered some shocking information that I thought should write here. It’s going to be quite a bit, but this information is critical._

_To give some background information, Lamia is an intergalactic celestial demon that watches Earth from a distance. It is responsible for all things evil that happened on Earth. From the fall of the Roman Empire to the Spanish Inquisition to the Cuban Missile Crisis, it has killed and tortured many of us. It continues to do so, and today it takes joy in torturing me. I don’t want to lead the church anymore; I want to stop service, tell everyone to go home, but I cannot. It will kill me._

_I’ll stop there now. I will now explain as to how I’m possessed. You see, Lamia belongs to the Celesticalii. They’re like space angels, demons, all that junk. They’re genderless, shape-shifting souls that do nothing but roam the galaxy. No one knows where they came from, not even me, but they don’t originate from human souls. But they can “possess” humans, even the unborn. They can even revive the dead! I use the term possess loosely, you see because when they “possess” their host, they’re only living inside their mind. They influence their behavior, but cannot have complete control of them._

_In most cases, Celesticalii are very friendly spirits. Their jobs are to help their host do what is good. However, I’m being “possessed” by a Celestica daemon, which is forcing me to continue this crime. Celesticalii daemons can also influence your personality, which is why I have been acting quirky these past few years. The worst part is that they can possess you for however long they wish, from a few months to your entire life. If you are possessed by a good spirit, consider yourself lucky. Me? I’m fucked._

_I don’t know what to do anymore. I wish everything was back to normal. I wish I was still friends with Jeong. I wish I was working at my dream job. I wish I could be normal. I wish I felt real. I wish I could die without consequence. What the fuck did I do to deserve this?!_

 

    Shocked by the horrors I just read, I let the book slip away from my hand and let it fall to the floor.

    “Oh my fucking God,” Jeong gasped. “This can’t be.”

    Jeong got up off the couch and took off, heading to their room to be left alone. I wanted to get up and follow them, but I felt Scottie’s hand holding my shoulder down. I turned to him and saw that a single tear was trailing down his face.

    “Leave them alone for a minute,” he mumbled. “I know how hard it must be for them. I know I needed some time alone when Maddie passed.”

    I sat back down, lifting his hand off my shoulder.

    “You’re right,” I said. “It’s just so horrible though, I feel like I need to comfort them.”

    “Trust me, they’ll need it,” he advised. “And this will kinda sound harsh of me but I didn’t really have much empathy for Lee. Even after that conversation Jeong and I had on Christmas, I still felt wary of him. I wanted to protect Jeong, but at the same time, I thought they were crazy for wanting to save him. But I never wanted to say it in the first place.”

    “Why are you saying that now though?” I raised a brow in concern.

    He breathed in slowly, then letting out a long sigh.

    “I was wrong,” he admitted. “After seeing what I just read, I feel like an idiot. I feel so sorry for Jeong, and I actually feel bad for Lee for once. I probably was too judgmental.”

    “You don’t really know the real Lee though,” I refuted. “So how do you know you’re wrong?”

    “Well . . .” he paused for a moment, sinking back a bit in his seat. “There were actually a few times were Jeong and I talked about him. I didn’t really care then but now thinking about it, I learned some interesting things.”

    “Like what?”

    “He’s the son of French immigrants, which I guess I could tell. He’s quite the dramatic type.”

    “Yeah,” I agreed. “I think if he wasn’t a preacher, he would make a great actor.”

    “Definitely! He also shares a birthday with Cher!”

    “Oh, I already knew that before.”

    “I didn’t. You know I don’t keep up with celebrity birthdays.”

    I chuckled for moment, but then remembered that Jeong was still back there crying in their bedroom. Scottie and I walked down the hallway and entered the room, where we both saw Jeong laying on the bed. They weren’t crying much anymore, but tears continued to roll down their cheeks. I sat down on the bed while Scottie took a seat at the desk that was near the bed. I brought them into my arms, bringing them closer to me, my fingers trailing through their hair.

    “I’m so sorry, babe,” I whispered.

    “It’s—” they wanted to go on, but they cried out some more before moving on. “It’s not your fault. I-I just wish I could’ve stayed and he-helped him.”

    “Don’t blame yourself, Jeong,” Scottie said, then getting up and sitting on the bed next to Jeong. “Honestly, if there’s anyone that has to apologize, it’s me.”

    “Please, don’t say that,” they objected. “You don’t—”

    “I do though. I’m sorry for calling Lee a maniac and all. I care about you Jeong, and when I care about people, I’m very protective of them. I didn’t want him hurting you but now I’ve realized that he’s not the problem. And to realize what happened to him is awful.”

    “I know,” they sighed. “I’m still in shock about it.”

    “Me too,” he nodded. “I feel bad for him now. I’m sorry.”

    I had nothing to say to keep the conversation going, and neither did Jeong or Scottie. All three of us sat there in awkward silence, still feeling haunted by the existence of Lamia. I was a bit skeptical about it at first, but when I thought back to that day where Scottie and I broke into the church, it all made sense to me. Who else would have called my name when no one else was at the church? Who else would have hissed that ominous message? We knew that Lamia was real now, but I knew that the world wasn’t ready to be exposed to its existence.

    “Well, what are we gonna do now?” Jeong questioned. “We have to shut down the church and get Reagan exorcised somehow.”

    “We definitely can’t fight it out,” I said. “It has to be something civil and fair.”

    “What are we gonna do though?”

    I thought about it for a moment, struggling to come up with anything until it hit me.

    “Does Lee play sports?” I inquired.

    “Sports?” Jeong gave me a puzzled expression. “I know that he liked playing tennis, but that was about it.”

    “Better than nothing,” Scottie remarked.

    “Oh, definitely,” I agreed. “And that’s perfect! I used to play tennis in high school.”

    “Really?!” the both of them exclaimed in unison.

    “Oh yeah, I did! I haven’t played since I graduated though so I’ll need to practice soon. Have you played before, Jeong?”

    “Yeah,” they chuckled. “I played a lot in high school too. What about you Scottie?”

    “Oh, um, me?” he laughed nervously afterward, looking away for a moment. “I’m not a very athletic guy, but I still like playing it. I just get exhausted so easily.”

    “Well, that won’t be a problem for me,” I reassured him. “It’ll just be me and Jeong playing against Lee and whoever he plays with. If we win this, that’ll be the end of the church and we’ll get him to an exorcist. If he wins somehow, I don’t know what we’ll do.”

    “That plan sounds good enough,” Jeong said. “When will we play?”

    “I’ll think about that later.”

    “And what if nothing goes right?”

    Noticing that Jeong was on the verge of another breakdown, Scottie and I wrapped our arms around them and hugged them in a sweet, longing embrace. I kissed their warm, rose-colored cheek while Scottie pressed his nose against Jeong’s hair, not that he was weird, but the texture of their hair was heavenly.

    “No matter what happens,” I whispered, “I’ll still be here for you.”

    “So will I,” Scottie added. “We love you.”

    “I love you, too,” Jeong cooed. “Both of you.”

    I let go of Jeong and my hand entangled itself in their fingers, while my lips grazed across their face to meet theirs. Suddenly, they pulled their hand away from mine, placing it firmly on my thigh. I felt my cheeks burning up a bit, already aware of what was about to happen. If Jeong was going to play that type of game, so would Scottie and I. Eagerly, I pushed my tongue into their mouth and brushed it across their teeth. Without thinking about resisting, they fully opened their mouth and sighed, craving for my touch. As I made out with them, I extended my arm and tugged on the sleeve of Scottie’s jacket, prompting him to make his move. He blushed, trying to figure out what to do until he dipped his head into the crook of Jeong’s neck and started kissing it. Jeong was shocked by his action, pulling away from me.

    “Are you okay with this?” they asked me about Scottie.

    “Of course, honey,” I purred, grinning from ear to ear. “I want us all to be happy.”

    Their expression of concern transformed into an innocent yet lustful look; with a mischievous look in their eyes, they wrapped an arm around Scottie, interrupting his kisses. After gathering his hair into a thick bundle, Jeong yanked his hair back and sent him hollering, but within seconds he was moaning like mad. The next thing I remembered was that we all stripped our clothes in a flash and Scottie and I was all over Jeong, and on each other. For the first time in forever, all three of us were happy. Not just with life, but with each other as a whole.


	17. Jeong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: pregnancy and mention of abortion.

Though the first half of June wasn’t quite over yet, this month had been just as miserable as the weather itself. Not only was I feeling unwell emotionally, I had been so physically ill to the point where I had to quit my job. Just about every other morning, I would jump out of my bed immediately and hurried to the bathroom, where I sat near the toilet puking every ten minutes or so. This kept occurring for a few more weeks, and despite the vomiting, I didn’t have a fever of any sort. I thought I was nauseous because I was about to have my period again soon, but I haven’t had it in a while. Panicked, Isaac and I went to the doctor to see what was going on.

A week after the appointment, I woke up at seven in the morning and was expecting to go to the bathroom to puke again. I didn’t feel my stomach twisting or turning, but I laid in bed for a little longer before deciding I should make breakfast. But I lacked the mental energy to motivate myself to get out of bed, continuing to sit in the morning silence. I nearly went back to sleep until I heard someone knock on my door. I didn’t answer for a second but then let out a low sigh.

“Come in,” I instructed.

The door opened, revealing Isaac who stood there wearing only a pair of grey sweatpants. I sat up, shifting my position on the bed to make room for him as he walked toward the bed and sat down next to me. He pulled me into his arms, leaving a soft, delicate kiss on my forehead.

“Doing okay, babe?” he asked sleepily. 

“Yeah,” I sighed. “I think I’m alright now. I might feel sick later but who knows.”

“Well . . . the doctors called this morning.”

“That early? I slept pretty well then.”

“Yeah. Umm . . .”

“What?”

He stared down at the bedsheets, clenching them softly with his fist and sighed. Then, he leaned over to turn on the lamp that stood on my nightstand. He drew his arm away from me and laid down on the bed, holding my hand with his and kisses the back of it.

“Jeong,” he whispered. “No matter what happens to you, I will always love you.”

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Am I dying?”

“Oh no, definitely not.” He smiled, chuckling at my dumbfounded question. “It’s much better than that.”

“What is it? C’mon just tell me.”

“You’re expecting!”

I froze up instantly, shocked by the news I just received.  _ “This can’t be real,”  _ I thought.  _ “Please tell me this is a fucking joke.”  _ I wanted to scream, kick, cry my heart out, but I didn’t want to put that much stress on the baby already. I don’t hate kids, but the thought of a human being living inside my body made me felt absolutely nauseous. I wasn’t even sure if I was ready to be a mother yet, already dealing with so much stress in my life. Reagan was possessed, Scottie was still struggling, and now I was expecting my first child with . . .

“Wait,” I said. “You said I’m expecting? And you don’t know if it’s yours?!”

“No,” he replied. “Well, I mean, we all forgot about using condoms so—”

I hopped out of the bed, rushing to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I sat there on the floor, curled up in the fetal position and wept. I had only been awake for half an hour or so, but this morning already felt like a nightmare. Not only was I was stressed over the fact that I was pregnant, I had no clue whose child it was. When I had finally stopped crying, I sat in the corner of the bathroom zoning out again, watching myself as if I were in a movie. The whole experience was frightening to me, and just like that, I forgot what happened for the rest of the morning. I did remember that Isaac came into the bathroom and talked to me, but I couldn’t recall a word he said. It doesn’t phase me anymore though, I’ve been used to it since my parents died. 

When I woke up again, I found myself laying back down in my bed. I turned my head to read the clock; it was only eleven o’clock. I wasn’t out for that long, but it felt like it had been days since I last talked to Isaac. Time would play odd tricks on me at times, and today was one of them. Hoping that it was all a dream, I stepped out of my bed and slipped my bathrobe on, tying the thick string around my waist. I opened the door, stretching my arms over my head before heading out to the kitchen. The first person I came across to this morning was Scottie, standing by the toaster as he waited for his toast to finish toasting. 

“Hey,” I murmured. He was a bit surprised hearing my voice, but he turned to me and smiled. He looked tired, but from the look of it, I knew he was happy to see me.

“Did you just woke up?” he asked, leaning his back against the counter.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I woke up kinda late though.”

“That’s alright. I’m just glad you’re doing better now.”

That’s when the last of my hopes went away; something had happened to me.

“Wha-what happened?” I worriedly asked.

“You don’t remember anything?” he inquired, checking to make sure I wasn’t lying. I shook my head in response. “Well, before Isaac left for work this morning, you had an episode in the bathroom and he had to go in there and calm you down. You didn’t resist or anything but you kept crying and crying, so I came in there and comforted you too.”

“And then what happened?”

“You just got so tired that you went back to bed. I guess you really needed that nap because you slept for a good three hours. And I guess that’s what happens when you’re pregnant.”

“I’m still . . . ?” I didn’t bother to finish my sentence but felt a tear trickling down my cheek, staring down at the floor. When I heard the toast pop up, Scottie came up to me and hugged me tightly, patting my back gently and rubbed it.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispered to me. “It’s not the end of the world. You know you can always get an abortion if—”

“No!” I raised my voice, pushing Scottie away from me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. I just don’t think I can go through that.”

“So you wanna have a baby?”

“It’s complicated,” I sighed, looking at the toast in the distance. “I mean, I do wanna be a mom, but the fact that I’m expecting . . . that’s something I’ll have to get used to. I never really intended to get pregnant either, because a living being living inside of me grosses me out.”

“I understand,” Scottie acknowledged. “I mean, I can’t relate now but trust me, the whole pregnancy shit makes me wanna vomit.”

“Oh, it will — literally.”

Scottie let out a burst of laughter and clapped his hands, smacking his knees afterward. I suspected that my joke was pretty hilarious when he started to wheeze. After I told him to calm down, he took a few deep breaths and tried to not think about it, but I could hear him snicker a bit.

“Haha, sorry,” he apologized. “I thought that was hilarious!”

“Oh no, it’s fine!” I said. “At least you can understand what I’m going through so far, y’know?”

“Oh, definitely!”

Scottie turned around, picking his toast out of the toaster as I walked away and sat down on the couch in the living room. The news was on the TV again, but I was feeling too lazy to get up and change the channel myself. Besides, I was fine with watching the news, but sometimes they would tend to shine too much light on negative events. I sighed, laying back as I wondered about the future. While I was primarily focused on the future of the world, I was worried about my own future as well. At this point in time, I couldn’t predict what could happen. With a child on the way, I have a clearer vision of what to expect. Reagan on the other hand . . . what is there in store for him?

Just as I was thinking about getting up, Scottie came over and sat down next to me, carrying a plate of toast that had strawberry jam spread on it. He offered me a piece and I snatched it right from his plate. I didn’t care for strawberry jam that much, but I needed something to munch on. As I scarfed down on it, he asked me a question related to my pregnancy:

“So, have you thought about names yet?”

“Me?” I inquired, my voice muffled with a mouth full of food. After I swallowed, I gave him my honest answer. “Not really.”

“Is it hard?” he suspected.

“Nah,” I shook my head. “I would rather wait until they’re born and then I’ll decide what to name them.”

“Really? Why wait?”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but naming your child before you get to know them is kinda weird.”

Scottie thought about it for a moment, looking puzzled but then the realization came to him, nodding to me in response.

“Okay, I see your point,” he said. “That’s kinda interesting though.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “And it kinda proves that people are judging you even before you’re born.”

“Damn. I guess that’s the world we live in.”

“You’re right.”

I stopped the conversation right there and watched the news while Scottie got up and headed back to the kitchen to cook more toast. They showed nothing interesting on television so I got up and turned off the TV, sitting right back down. Even with nothing concerning going on as of now, I still worried about what the future held for me and my child, and for Isaac and for Scottie. And maybe even for Reagan. Even as I enjoyed this moment of peace, something horribly wrong is always happening this very minute. I wasn’t quite sure what was going on in the nations that the U.S. purposely ignored, but I know that times are changing and shit happens. Maybe not to me today, but today someone might’ve lost their home, their spouse, their children, or perhaps their own life. And maybe tomorrow, or any day now, I could lose anything.

Scottie returned with another plate of toast and sat back down, biting a piece off already. When he finishes chewing it up and swallows it, he smiled at me.

“Hey,” he called for my attention. “Just to let you know, I pulled out in time.”

“You did?” I raised a brow. “You’re not lying, are you?”

“Nope, I’m telling you the truth only.”

“Well, you better be.”

He laughed at my comment, showing off that radiant, pure smile of his. 

* * *

 

Another month flew by and now I was two months into my pregnancy, but my stomach only grew a bit despite me being skinny. Anxiety still lingered within me but I knew it was normal for me, and probably for many others that were expecting. Isaac had been making the experience for me comfortable though, showering me with more affection on a daily basis to relieve my anxiety. It worked for me most of the time, but I still felt dreadful thinking about having to give birth. Other than that, I felt better about my pregnancy now than how I felt about it a month ago. However, there was another thing to take care of: Reagan.

We parked near the alley for the first time in half a year. It hadn’t been too long since we last saw Reagan, but I knew that for sure he was still pissed at us for stealing a personal diary of his, specifically at Isaac. Hell, he must’ve been jealous of Isaac, but that I wasn’t too sure about. But I knew for now that I couldn’t reveal the news of my pregnancy to him; only God knows how he would take it. Reagan never talked about having kids, nor did I think he wanted to have any, but to know that I was having a better relationship with Isaac would pain him, and he would blame himself for everything again. I knew that none of this was his fault, but sometimes things weren’t meant to be. And now, I for sure know why we separated.

We walked slowly in the alley, with both Isaac and Scottie by my side to guard me, watching out for anything suspicious. Despite waking in this alley a couple of times and coming across nothing strange, I didn’t see a reason why they needed to protect me all of the sudden. Maybe they wanted to keep the baby safe, which I understood, but it’s not like I’m helpless or anything. Did neither one of them remember the time I fought my way out of the Mallory Tavern? Or the time I lifted Scottie up and ran to the car? Maybe, but I wasn’t in the mood to argue with either of them.

When we reached the door this time, we noticed that a small but noticeable change was made to the door. Instead of the golden cross hanging on the door, there was a slot in its place. It appeared to be one of those mail slots, painted gold as well. I wasn’t quite sure of its purpose, but then again I would have to talk to Reagan about that. As we stood there in silence, Isaac knocked on the door three times and waited for someone, anyone to open the door. Just like before, a full minute passed by before the door opened, and there he was. Though it was July, the hottest month of the summer, Reagan wore a red long-sleeved shirt, with its collar outlined by a black fabric, and black pants that were tucked into a pair of matching black boots. I thought it was a nice look, but it was too hot outside. Strangely, his face expressed no anger but I knew from the tone of his voice that he was already impatient with us.

“What the hell do you guys want?” he grumbled, leaning to the side of the doorway, crossing his arms. 

“We need to talk,” Isaac said. “It’s kinda important.”

“You expect  _ me _ to talk? After what happened at  _ that _ party?” 

Isaac smiled awkwardly and then nodded, confident that Reagan would give in. Instead, he gave him a dull, poker-faced expression.

“Yeah, umm, no,” he said bluntly, about to shut the door. “Buh-bye!”

“No, listen!” Isaac pleaded, holding the door open as Reagan was about to close it. “We’re only here to help!”

“Help me with what?” Reagan sneered. “You’re not gonna set foot in this church ever again!”

Knowing that Reagan was going to disagree with Isaac no matter what, I stepped into the conversation.

“Reagan!” I nearly shouted. “We know you’re possessed! We want to help you!”

Suddenly, he stopped pushing the door against Isaac and looked at me with a worrisome expression. I knew from that sorrowful look in his icy blue eyes that he was actually listening and that all signs of aggression had left him right away. This Reagan that I was speaking to right now was the real one, the sweet, shy artsy boy I loved once. Recently when I tried to interact with him, he was possessed, but now I knew he was finally alone, thankful to see me. He didn’t mutter a word to us, opening the door again and gestured us to come on inside. After we entered the building and Reagan closed the front door, my eyes started to water and I ran up to Reagan, hugging him tightly and began weeping.

“Jeong, are you okay?” Scottie turned to me sounding worried. I said nothing and kept crying, but Reagan took care of it.

“It’s been a while,” he mumbled. “I guess it decided to leave me alone for now.”

“Wait you mean—”

Reagan nodded before Scottie could answer his own question. He stood there for another minute, holding me close as I tried to calm down, but God I was so glad to see him again. Seeing the real Reagan after what we’ve been through has not only been relieving, but it was proven to me again that he was alive. He still needed our help, but I was glad that he was still here, having some control over himself. When the minute was up, I let go of Reagan and thanked him for being here today. He didn’t have anything to say, but instead, he smiled right back at me. 

“So where should we go?” Reagan inquired us. 

“What do you mean by that?” Scottie clarified.

“Do you wanna talk about this in my office or—”

“How about your apartment?” Isaac suggested. I didn’t get it for a second but after thinking about it for a moment, I start snickering. 

“What, what are you laughing about?” Reagan asked me, confused about the situation. I laughed for a bit longer until Isaac gave it all away.

“I know you’re gonna kill me but Scottie and I snuck into your office the other day looking for something, but we left when we heard you moan upstairs.”

Isaac chuckled thinking back to that day while Reagan stood there looking embarrassed, his cheeks burning crimson red. He gave him a nervous-looking grin, trying to laugh along. 

“You didn’t tell anyone else about that, did you?” Reagan laughed nervously.

“No, no man!” Isaac exclaimed. “I don’t snitch that much. And I have a boyfriend so your secret’s safe with me.”

“You and Jeong broke up?!”

“Hell no! I’m just in an open relationship.”

“With who else?”

Isaac offered no explanation but eyed Scottie, who grinned back at him. Reagan raised an eyebrow, looking at Isaac and Scottie and then at me with a bewildered expression. All three of us broke out into laughter until Reagan interrupted us and lead us the way to his apartment upstairs. 

When we approached the door to his apartment, we noticed how different the exterior design was. Instead of being painted with a dark color, the door was pristine pearl white and the golden cross was hanging on the front. The color of the doorknob matched that of the cross and there was a mail slot in the lower region of the door. Without further ado, Reagan opened the door; I expected it to be just as cluttered as his office downstairs, but to my amazement, the living room was organized and tidy. The walls were painted in a pretty pastel blue and the ceiling remained white, and there was a huge window at the far side of the room, but it was covered by a thick, long white curtain so that no one from the outside could spot Reagan. Over by one of the desks, I saw Laurie adjusting the lens on one of his cameras. And right next to him was a record player that sat on a small table; I wasn’t paying attention to the music much at first but after listening to some of the lyrics, it was a song from  _ Queen’s A Day at the Races _ .

“You like Queen?!” Isaac gasped, realizing what was playing.

“Yeah!” Reagan beamed. “They’re so brilliant!”

“What’s your favorite song by them?”

“Oh, that’s easy! The Prophet’s Song!”

“You got good taste.”

“Oh, thank you!”

I looked back at Laurie, who seemed unbothered by the company that Reagan had over and was working hard on whatever he was doing, until Reagan came up to him and tapped him lightly on the shoulder, interrupting his work routine. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but then Laurie moved his camera to the side and got out of his seat. We then gathered around the TV, all three of us sitting on the sofa and Laurie sitting at the side couches. Reagan turned down the volume of the music before sitting down, beginning the conversation.

“So what did you come again for?” Reagan inquired, resting his chin in his palm.

“Oh, yeah that,” Scottie remembered. “Well, I know it sound invasive but we all went through your journal and we found out that you’re possessed. And we wanna help you.”

“I believe you. It’s just . . .” He frowned, thinking about the daemon. “This daemon is unpredictable. I know I still have control of what I say and do, but sometimes I feel like I can’t do anything to stop it.”

“And that’s why you should go see an exorcist,” Scottie stated, but I immediately knew that was the wrong answer.

“Okay, not to offend you or anything Mr. Marnon but are you fucking stupid? You know I’ve been labeled as a criminal by the police department, right?”

Scottie’s jaw dropped and his cheeks flushed, burying his face in his hands when he realized mistake. Isaac chuckled at the scene but he instantly shut himself up and got serious. 

“We came up with a solution the other day,” Isaac brought up. “Well, as Scottie calls it, a duel with the devil.”

“And what is that?” Reagan raised an eyebrow in concern.

“Well . . . Scottie and I challenge you and Laurie to a tennis match.”

Reagan gave Isaac a puzzled expression, while Laurie was already dreading the match. The man was fit for his age and height, but I assumed he loathed sports since he was an artist.

“But why though?” Reagan coaxed.

“Listen,” I asked for his attention. “I don’t know if that daemon is listening or not but listen to me. If Isaac wins, we’re allowed to get you to an exorcist.”

“And if I win?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “But whatever happens, that’s that.”

“So should I do badly on purpose?”

“Yes and no,” Scottie joined back in. “It’s going to be a public match, so put in all the effort you’d like. But if that daemon uses your motivation to steal the lead, try to fight back and lose on purpose. Make it look accidental though so that people won’t get onto you. You only want them to think you’re a bad player.”

“Okay,” Reagan replied, “that makes sense.”

“Deal then?” Isaac asked for confirmation.

“It’s a deal, man. When and where?”

All three of us fell silent, thinking we wouldn’t get this far with the tennis match. Isaac opened his mouth and was about to tell Reagan the honest truth, but Laurie finally contributed to the conversation.

“If you need to find a place, I can do that for you,” he suggested; he was a quiet speaker but his voice was soothing, like the rain. “I have a friend who’s a tennis coach, so if you want me to, I can ask him if we can play on his court.”

“You’ll really do that for us, Laurie?” Isaac murmured. “That would be great.”

    “Of course, I would do anything to help.”

    “Thank you so much. Oh, and Lee — be there August 6th, one o’clock sharp.”

    Reagan got up from the chair and so did Isaac, the two of them shaking hands in agreement.

    “It’s a deal for sure!” Reagan approved. “And I’m definitely gonna need a few weeks to practice.”

    “Me too,” Laurie agreed. “Besides, I need to get back into the habit of sports.” He let out a small chuckle, and so did Reagan.

    We said our goodbyes to Reagan and Laurie, who promised us they would start practicing for the match. Isaac and Scottie made the same promise, that way the match would be a fair deal. Though I know that Isaac was confident and was sure that we would win this match, I began to overthink the future outlook of the match. What if we do lose? What if Isaac or Scottie are injured? What if Reagan can’t control the daemon? I forced myself to stop thinking about it and focused on the outside scenery on our trip home instead.


	18. Isaac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: shooting and mention of pregnancy.

    I watched the tennis ball bounce in rhythm, falling to the ground and then bouncing back up, only to hit the tight net of my racket and plummet back to the ground. The cycle continues infinitely until a ball is thrown at the back of my head and it bounces off to God knows where. I cursed and dropped my racket on top of my ball and ran a hand over the area of impact, checking for any bumps or injuries. I found nothing, but when I heard Scottie cackling behind me, I turned around and glared at him with a flare of annoyance in my eyes. Still, he continued to laugh at this mishap.

    “You know I was just playing!” he joked with me.

    “I know, I know,” I said, then groaning. “But you know I don’t wanna get hurt before tomorrow’s game.”

    “Yeah, yeah, like I’m that stupid. At least be thankful that I don’t get high that much anymore.”

    “I mean, you are right on that one.”

    Scottie turned around and ran to the other side of the court to retrieve his ball as I crouched down and picked up my tennis racket. I grasped the ball in my other hand, holding onto it as if my life depended on it. Well, it really did in a way. And so did the racket which I held in front of me. Tomorrow these items, along with my motivation and stamina, would determine the course of my future. As Jeong stated weeks ago, if I won, we would finally put an end to the church and get Lee to see an exorcist, and hopefully clear his name. But if not . . . I wouldn’t be sure what the future would hold for us then. I didn’t want to try my best, but I wanted to give my all in order to save Lee and this city.

    “You wanna try one more time?” Scottie shouted across the court, asking me if I wanted to play one more round.

    “Sure!” I yelled back. “And you know what they say, practice makes perfect!”

    The two of us got into our positions, with Scottie immediately throwing the ball up into the air and hit it in my direction. “ _Think fast,_ ” I thought to myself. For a second, it appeared that it was going to crash right into my face, but the wind pushed it at the last second and shifted its course of direction. I jumped and extended my right arm, hitting the ball back into Scottie’s territory. I mimicked his movements, running along to side as I got ready for him to bounce it right back at me. The ball almost escaped the area, but Scottie slid steadily on his feet and hit it back to me. We continued to hit the ball back and forth for a good thirty seconds, but then, as the ball was about to fly over me and go out of bounds, I jumped up and hit it directly onto Scottie’s side again. It flew at the speed of light, and just like that he missed his chance. I cheered as he threw himself down on the ground, exhausted from today’s workout. He laid there as I continued to celebrate my own victory, but then he sat up and I could see him smile from a distance. He stood up, collecting his racket and the ball as he walked over to me.

    “You’re pretty damn good, man,” he panted, a few beads of sweat resting on his eyebrow. “You’ll win tomorrow for sure!”

    “Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate it. So is Jules coming tonight and gonna be able to watch the game tomorrow?”

    “They should be. I mean that’s why we’re about to drive to the airport.”

    “Makes sense. Have you told them about . . .” I remembered that Scottie probably didn’t want to talk about the subject, so I just dropped it and sighed. However, he answered me as if he read my mind.

    “No,” he replied. “I probably won’t mention it for a while.”

    “It’s fine,” I said. “Besides, that’s probably the last thing they wanna hear about before the game tomorrow.”

    “Yeah. And there’s been enough stress on them already.”

    We ended the conversation right there and picked up our bags, leaving the tennis court for the day.

    My confidence was high now, and I was sure that I would beat Lee at the game tomorrow, but I didn’t want to feel too confident in case it would jinx me somehow. Losing the game was the last thing I wanted to happen on this planet. Hell, I’m pretty sure that no one in the city of Chicago would want Lee to win, except for the members of the church that had been brainwashed by the daemon, or were probably possessed themselves. Who knows, but I know it would be hell trying to exorcise all those poor people if they were possessed for sure. I stopped thinking about it for the rest of the day as Scottie and I were on our way to the airport.

* * *

 

    Instead of hearing the alarm first thing in the morning, someone had their hand on my arm and shook me awake; I couldn’t pick up who it was at first, but as I became conscious I realized that the voice belonged to an older person, and I had no other guess to who it was.

    “Hey, get up,” Jules told me. “C’mon young man, you got a big day ahead of you.”

    “Five more minutes,” I groaned, pushing their hand away. I was about to go back to sleep, but when I turned on my side and read the alarm clock, my eyes flickered open and I read it once more. The clock read 10:30 AM and the match would start at one o’clock this afternoon, so I hopped out of my bed and searched through my drawers in a frenzy.

    “Is everyone else waiting for me?!” I panicked.

    “Yup,” Jules nodded, crossing their arms. “Well, Scottie is still packing his tennis gear but —”

    “Well, fuck, I better get going then! I’m so so sorry, I’m not usually like this. I don’t know why my alarm didn’t go off!”

    “It’s alright, it happens to all of us.”

    I was tempted to add something to the conversation, but I dropped it and hurried on to the bathroom where I took a quick shower since I forgot to take one the night before. I finished it in under five minutes, and as soon as I stepped out of the shower, I brushed my teeth while I dried my body and hair. With my towel tucked around my waist, I ran back to my bedroom and slammed the door shut and got dressed in my tennis clothes. When I was through with putting on my shirt, I heard someone knocking on my door.

    “Isaac, are ya ready to go now?” Scottie asked, his voice barely audible through the wood of the door.

    “Gimme one more minute!” I requested. “I gotta get my shoes on still!”

    “Well hurry up, man! It’s foggy out so we’re gonna have to drive slowly!”

    “Yeah, yeah I get it.”

    Instantly, I slid both my socks on and straightened them out before putting on my shoes. I then scrambled to collect my tennis gear, which I found everything in under a minute. I usually took forever to get ready in the morning, but today I had to get serious. The whole city of Chicago was depending on me, and even though I didn’t feel that anxious about the match, it was not the time to slack off.

    The last thing I grabbed off my nightstand before I left my room was my water bottle, which I emptied out the day before and forgot to refill it. I turned and tried to walk to the kitchen, but then someone grabbed me by my arm and dragged me in the opposite direction.

    “You don’t have to worry about that, son,” Jules told me, leading me to the front door. “We gotta get going now. Besides, they’ll have plenty of water there.”

    “You sure?” I asked.

    "Of course, they ain’t gonna let you play while dehydrated.”

    We both left the house and locked the door before going out to the car, with me sitting in the passenger seat as always. Scottie was driving us and Jules sat in the back of the car with Jeong, who was three months pregnant now. Their bump was somehow noticeable now, but they wore a light blue sweater to cover it up. I didn’t understand why, but I didn’t bother to ask them. We left the driveway at eleven o’clock that morning, on our way to Grant Park Tennis Courts, located near South Side and Chinatown. We drove for a while before having to stop due to traffic. We weren’t terribly late, but I heard Scottie let out a disgruntled sigh once we stopped.

    “Sorry guys,” he apologized. “If we’re late, it’s my fault.”

    “Don’t give up now son,” Jules replied, resting their hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get there in time. It’s not the end of the world.”

    “Yeah,” I agreed. “Besides, it’s my fault really.”

    “It’s not your fault, oh my God,” Jeong groaned. “The alarm just didn’t go off.”

    “Okay, but what if I did something to the alarm?” I proposed.

    “You didn’t!” Jeong swore. “Let’s just stop worrying about the alarm.”

    After Jeong’s statement, traffic became light and we sped up for a moment, trying our best to get to the park on time while navigating through the fog. Some of it began to clear up while traveling, but whenever Scottie sped up on the way there, I feared for my life. Jules even advised Scottie to stop, but he ignored their advice and continued to do so anyway. I watched the trees outside my window, running in a blur as we drove past them with no horrendous thought in mind. And after driving for however long, Scottie finally turned the radio on and left the station unchanged when he heard that “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac was playing. I heard the song a million times before, but when I listened to the lyrics closely this time, that’s when I turned around and saw Jeong crying in silence. “ _Poor baby,_ ” I thought.

    It was a few minutes past noon when we arrived at Grant Park; some people already showed up to the match, who I assumed that over half of them were from Lee’s church. A few groups were cheering for me once I got out of the car, hoping to God that this would be the day. That today would be the end of this madness, but little do they know that Lee was being held captive by his inner daemon. But of course, I know that they weren’t ready for the truth, and one of the last things I wanted to do was drown this world in mass hysteria and paranoia.

    While the crowd waited for the match to begin, my group and I decided to hang out in the locker room with Jules, talking to them about their life since the incident at Woodstock. Tired of standing, they sat down on one of the benches and stretched their arms outward.

    “Well, nothing much has happened these past few years,” Jules stated. “Actually, I know I already told Scottie this, but I finally got my citizenship two years ago.”

    “Ayy, congrats!” I cheered, clapping my hands. “I actually still need to apply for mine.”

    “Oh, I don’t blame you, it’s a long process. Scottie hasn’t done it either.”

    My face displayed a puzzled expression and I looked back at Scottie. “ _He’s not American?”_ I wondered.

    “You’re not American, Scottie?” I queried.

    “Nah,” he replied. “I moved here from Britain when I was four.”

    “Oh, then that explains why you have no accent.”

    “He actually still had it when I first met him,” Jules added. “And sometimes when he calls me, it’ll show up for a bit.”

    “Oh right,” Scottie recalled, chuckling. “I forget about that sometimes.”

    He opened up his bag shortly afterward, digging through it to find something in particular. Pulling his arm out of the bag, he produces a red apple in his hand, still wrapped up in plastic. He calls for me and then tosses the fruit over to me.

    “That’s for you,” he said. “It’s for good luck.”

    I wasn’t sure what to say next, so I just smiled at the apple and began to unwrap it.

    “Thanks,” I replied. “Really though. You know I didn’t eat this morning.”

    “Isaac!” Jeong blurted. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

    “I was in a hurry!”

    “Well, here!” Jeong opened their bag as well, instantly pulling out half a sandwich and hurled it at my chest. “Eat up!”

    “Well, don’t rush me then!” I joked, then biting into the apple. I scarfed that sandwich down in under two minutes but it took me about at least five minutes to finish the apple. I wanted to save it for later, but since I was uncertain of how long our breaks would be, I ate it like there was no tomorrow.

    When I was finished with my lunch, Scottie and I walked out to the tennis court and began to occupy the half that was closest to us. Jules took a seat with the rest of the crowd while Jeong was having a conversation with one of the coaches. Since the game wasn’t going to start for another ten minutes or so, Scottie and I bounced a tennis ball back and forth between each other while waiting for Lee and Laurie to show up. Maybe one of them woke up late too, or perhaps worse, but that was something I couldn’t determine myself. And though the weather was just perfect today, I spot a few clouds in the distance that were looking quite sinister, waiting to rain on our parade.

    Five minutes until one o’clock, Lee and Laurie finally appeared and took their positions on the opposite side of the court. Though this was a serious game and required us to dress comfortably and appropriately according to the weather, I glanced over Lee and couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle. He wore a white polo shirt that had the Nike logo on the left side, but when I looked down at his lower body, his shorts seemed suggestive. The ends of his shorts were only halfway down his thighs, but they might’ve been a little shorter than I thought. Laurie, on the other hand, had shorts that nearly reached his knees, but he wore a light blue tank top. I didn’t think it was weird, but it seemed to stand out since the rest of us were wearing polo shirts. I looked away from Lee, staring at the net until Scottie tapped on my shoulder with his racket.

    “Good luck, man,” he whispered to me.

    “You too,” I replied, turning my head to look straight ahead at Jeong, sitting at a clothed table and was about to announce the beginning of the game.

    “Good afternoon, everyone,” they greeted the crowd, scooting the microphone an inch closer to their face. “I’m Jeong Ara and today here at Grant Park, we’re holding a tennis match where Isaac Jones will compete against cult leader Lee Maddox for the closure of the church.”

    I exchanged another glance with Lee, who drew eye contact away from me the minute I laid my eyes on him. I couldn’t tell if he was nervous or not, but I could tell from the glimpse I caught in his eyes that he wasn’t going to fuck around. “ _He’s probably possessed again,_ ” I thought.

    “The deal is simple as it is,” Jeong’s speech interrupted my thoughts. “If Jones and Marnon win this match, Maddox will agree to shut down his church and dismiss all church members. However, if Maddox and Lamar win the match, Maddox will be allowed to keep his church running but will continue to disturb the peace in Chicago. For this match, they’ll be playing for best of five, and now I will decide who begins the game with a simple coin toss.”

    They grabbed a quarter off the table and walked to my side of the court, approaching the net and called me and Lee over.

    “Heads or tails, guys,” they said. “What’s it gonna be?”

    “Heads,” Lee automatically replied. With no other choice, I chose tails. Placing the quarter on their right thumb, they lifted their hand up in the air and flipped the coin. It stayed up in the air for about two seconds and then plummeted back down onto the ground of the court. To contribute to the suspension, it spun on its edge for a few more seconds before it finally fell down on one of its sides. Jeong crouched down and picked up the quarter carefully, trying to prevent themself from altering the results. When it was close enough for them to see, they lifted it up high in the air for the camera and audience to see.

    “Heads!” they declared. “Maddox gets to serve first!”

    “Dammit,” I heard Scottie cursed under his breath.

    “Hey man, we got this,” I reassured him, getting into position as he walked back to his spot. “Just don’t let it get to you!”

    Lee was already prepared to hit the ball, but Jeong pointed at him to wait until they gave us a signal to start the game. I bounced the net of the racket against my knee, waiting for a sign, anything, but for some strange reason, I wanted to drop my racket and ran away. There wasn’t a specific reason why, but I wanted to turn back now before it was too late. I didn’t act on the impulse since it would be cowardly of me to do so, but I felt my anxiety skyrocket through the roof. “ _It’s okay,_ ” I thought. “ _This is normal._ ”

    My thoughts faded away when I heard Jeong say “Love all,” but my mind wasn’t into the game until I heard Scottie scream at me to hit the ball. It was inches away from hitting my face on impact, so I backed away and attempted to hit it backhanded. My motive was successful, but I knew that I fucked up when the ball flew out of bounds, giving Lee and Laurie the first point in the game.

    “Out!” Jeong called out.

    “Isaac,” Scottie snapped. “What the fuck was that?”

    “I, I don’t know,” I shrugged, frowning in embarrassment. “I’m just so nervous.”

    “Well, you’re gonna have to get over it, man. This match is a matter of life or death, ya hear me?”

    I nodded, and then Scottie retreated to the front of the court. I sighed, shaking my head. Why was I zoning out? Why was my reaction time so slow? I knew the game only just got started, but I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to catch up to Lee if I wasn’t careful. I shook my head again, clearing my mind and focused on Lee, who was about to serve the ball again.

    “Fifteen-love,” Jeong called out the score again.

    Tossing the ball up into the air, Lee jumped up and hit it toward me, but Scottie ran to the right and bounced right back to his side. Laurie was unable to return the ball, but Lee made a comeback and backhanded the ball. When it returned to our side of the court, it hit the ground and bounced up into the air, giving me enough time to execute a volley before it reached the ground for the second time. I hit it with an excessive amount of force, but I managed to deliver it back to Lee’s side of the court. Laurie, once again, failed to return the ball; Lee was a few inches away from hitting it right back, but all he did was fell on his side and the ball kept bouncing away.

    “Double bounce!”

    “Good job!” Scottie praised me. “Keep it up, man!”

    "Oh, I will! Trust me,” I replied.

    I kept my word for that game, scoring thirty points when Lee stood there and possibly zoned about, missing the ball again. He tied with us once during the game, when I hit the ball in time but it flew into the outer area of the court. But I didn’t let that mistake bother me or Scottie, and with enough confidence, skill, and some luck, the first game ended with Scottie and I scoring “game” and Lee and Laurie scoring thirty points. Though we had a long way to go to win a set and gain three sets to win the entire match, I felt that I was having the time of my life. And by the beginning of the second game, my anxiety had faded away and the weight of the world seemed to lift itself off my shoulders.

    We won and lost games in a pattern somewhat; while we won the second game, tallying up two to zero games in the set, Lee suddenly decided to get serious about it. And while Scottie and I tried our hardest to beat him and Laurie, we lost the following two games and were tied two to two. We only needed to win at least six games, but we also needed a two-game advantage over them. So if the score was six to five, Scottie and I would need another game to score seven to five and win the set.

    It got to that point eventually; Scottie and I won six games, but we still had to play another game since Lee and Laurie won five of them. For a moment, I was convinced that they would win the game when Jeong stated “Deuce,” in other words we were tied forty to forty. Tension was swallowing me up, and it continued to grow once Lee tossed the ball up and hit it to ours. Scottie caught it in time, interrupting its path and backhanded the ball, followed by Laurie hitting it back. Back and forth it went between the two for a good minute, until Scottie hit the ball hard enough to where it flew over Laurie. Lee jumped up and hit it, only to plummet back down into the net.

    “Fault!”

    I saw Scottie smile as if the victory was made already. We still had to obtain at least three sets to win today’s match, but from the look in his eyes he seemed confident and was sure that we would win this.

    “Forty advantage.”

    Lee was given another chance to tie the game, but in both attempts at serving the ball, he failed and Jeong declared it as a double fault.

    “Jones and Marnon have won the first set, beating Maddox and Lamar with a score of seven to five,” Jeong concluded. “Our players will be taking a short break now. In the meanwhile, we’ll go to a commercial break.”

    Jeong got up from the table and walked toward Lee to hand him a bottle of water. They were holding a discussion, and while I couldn’t hear what they were saying, Lee displayed a hostile expression on his face. He didn’t seem to say anything hurtful to Jeong, but once he turned away to talk to Laurie, they jogged to me and looked rather shocked.

    “He’s possessed right now,” they whispered to me and Scottie as we gathered in a circle. “It’s still him, but he can’t have much physical control over himself, so you’re gonna have to play harder.”

    “Jesus,” I muttered. “I mean, I’ll give what I’ve got, but if he wins this match it’s game over.”

    “Hey, at least we won the first set,” Scottie reminded me. “And they have none. We only need two more to win.”

    “Yeah, but you better keep playing hard,” Jeong urged. “Both of you, not just you Scottie. You understand?”

    Both of us nodded and Jeong handed us our water bottles, letting us take a break for a couple of minutes until we were informed that the commercial break was over.

    We had a good grip for the first two games of the second set, but over time while Lee was possessed, he became far more active and gained nearly every single point until he and Laurie won six games, giving them the second set. It was only a tie then, but Scottie finally realized that he really needed to get his head into the game. He wasn’t that bad of a player for tennis, but within these last few games, I figured that he relied on me too much when it came to hitting the ball.

    “I’m sorry, man,” he apologized to me during our second break. “It’s just that I’m afraid I’ll mess up the match and make us lose.”

    “You won’t,” I disagreed, passing him another water bottle. “Just keep your eye on the ball, and don’t let him get to you.”

    “You’re sure about that?”

    “Yeah, if you’ll stop doubting yourself.”

    “Alright then.”

    During the first game of the third set, Scottie was busy adjusting his way of playing, so we lost the first two points and Lee and Laurie were in the lead for a short period of time. But once Scottie understood what he had to do, he was playing like a champ, scoring nearly every point for each game. We eventually balanced it out, and we won the third set by winning six games while Lee and Laurie didn’t win any. I could tell that during our third break that Lee wasn’t going to fuck around with us anymore, glaring at us eerily. Whether he was willing to destroy us literally or figuratively, Scottie and I were ready for the challenge ahead of us.

    In the fourth set, we knocked a few balls out of the park, literally. The ball boy didn’t bother to retrieve them and instead would hand us a new ball every time one of us batted a ball too far out of the area. I was sure that they would go back and retrieve them all at the end of the match, but right now everyone was too focused on the game. Although Scottie and I won four games, Lee and Laurie got caught up and scored six games, winning the fourth set. Once again, tied and were playing for the final set. After our last break, I knew that this was going to be one hell of a game. And I was right.

    Each of us won games back and forth, following a certain pattern. We would win one game, and then Lee and Laurie won another game. This went on and on and eventually, the games tied six to six. We were certain that this would go on for the rest of the afternoon, but suddenly Lee stopped putting so much effort into playing and we were back in the lead when Scottie and I won our seventh game. It was seven to six now, and we only needed to win one more game before we could claim the third set and win the match overall.

    “This could be it, everyone,” Jeong said at the beginning of the eighth game for the final set. “If Jones and Marnon win this game, it’s game over for Maddox.”

    Without further commentary, the final game commenced and for the first minute, Scottie and Laurie were hitting the ball back and forth between each other. Laurie eventually got the ball over Scottie, but I backhanded the ball just in time and it flew back to their side of the court. Lee couldn’t return the ball in time, scoring a point for us. But throughout the game, we lost and won points until it came down to a Deuce again. That’s when the suspense really heightened.

    “Deuce,” Jeong called before the ball was served.

    At one point when it flew to Lee’s side of the court, he batted it back to me as if he meant to injure me. But luckily, the wind blew the ball to my right and I swung my racket, returning it to the opposite side. Laurie was able to hit it, but it dived right into the net.

    “Advantage!”

    “ _This is it,_ ” I thought to myself. “ _You just need one more point, Isaac._ ”

    “Match point!” Jeong announced, their tone implying that they were ready to end the match already.

    Once Lee threw the ball up into the air for one last time, I thought about the past twenty-one years of my life. As we were hitting the ball back and forth across the court, I didn’t reflect back on any important life events but instead thought about advice or encouraging comments I was given through the years.

    “ _You’re a good guy, Isaac,_ ” a classmate told me once in my junior year. “ _I’m not lyin’ either. You make this world a better place._ ”

    “ _No matter what will happen, you’re still going to do great things,_ ” my parents told me once when I told them I dropped out of college.

    “ _Nothing is ever your fault,_ ” Anthony told me weeks after I was raped. “ _Some people in life will try to break you, but at the end of the day, you’re still one of the brightest guys I’ve ever known._ ”

    “ _Never give in to your demons, ever,_ ” Scottie advised after he attempted suicide back in April. “ _Always look toward tomorrow. A new day gives you a new opportunity to push them away._ ”

    When Lee hit the ball again and it flew to me for what was the last time, I thought about the final piece of advice that Jeong told me the night before.

    “ _Even if you lose, it won’t be the end of the world,_ ” they said. “ _There will always be another way to fix it. And no matter what happens tomorrow, I’ll always I love you. I wish you good luck._ ”

    After I thought about that last sentence, the net of my racket slammed against the ball and it returned to the other side of the court. Lee and Laurie scrambled to hit the ball, but they were too late when the tennis ball hit the ground for the second time. Lee stood there in utter shock while the entire crowd broke out cheering; a couple of people, including Jules, got out of their seats and ran to Scottie and I and hugged us both one by one. When it was Jules’ turn, they embraced me and Scottie in both arms, giving us the biggest hug of the year.

    “You did it, boys!” they faced us, grinning from ear to ear. “Both of you saved the city!”

    “Gosh, thank you, Jules,” Scottie said, blushing a bit. “Honestly though, I couldn’t have done it without Isaac.”

    “Dude, you were great!” I complimented him. “You saved my ass back there.”

    “Oh, shut up!” Jules chuckled. “Both of you were spectacular, and you definitely put more effort into the game than those guys.”

    When Jules decided to let go of me and Scottie, I felt a finger tap on my shoulder and turned around to find Jeong standing there. They immediately wrapped their arms around my neck, pulling me down a bit as they crashed their lips into mine. I held them gently in my arms, smiling until they pulled away.

    “I’m so proud of you,” they gushed, wiping away a tear as they smiled. “You don’t know how happy I am right now.”

    “I do, though,” I assured, caressing their cheek with my right hand. “The pain still has yet to end, but I know that the future will be much brighter for all of us now.”

    Jeong gave me a faint but hopeful smile, and just as I was thinking about kissing them again, it got a little dark out and a couple of raindrops began to sprinkle down on everyone. Luckily for a couple of people, they brought their umbrellas and began to bring those out. Jules carried one as well, but they appeared to be worried.

    “What’s the matter, Jules?” I inquired.

    “Lee’s gone!” they noticed, pointing to the court where he and Laurie stood. Laurie seemed to disappear as well. Just as I was about to take off and search the park with everyone else, I felt something puncture the left side of my abdomen. I screeched, realizing that I had been shot twice as I fell on the ground. I rolled onto my back, as Jeong ran to me in a panic and sat down, holding me in their arms. I looked ahead and saw Scottie ripping the gun out of Lee’s hand while Jules was beating the shit out of him.

    “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” they cried, pounding their fist right to his jaw. “Why would you do this?!” Jules pushed him away as Scottie snatched him by the collar of his polo shirt.

    “Damn you!” he screamed. “Why?!”

    “I, I,” Lee stuttered, tears pouring down his face along with the rain. “I couldn’t control it.”

    “Couldn’t control it?! Why?!”

    “I don’t fucking know! Please, just give me the fucking gun and let me kill myself for Christ’s sake!”

    “Reagan, no!” Jeong screeched, holding me closer. “You can’t!”

    “Why not?!” he blurted. “It’s all my damn fault, I deserve it!”

    “I have something to tell you!”

    “What?!”

    “I’m pregnant!”

    Lee’s jaw dropped and he burst into tears, punching Scottie in the eye and grabbed the gun before he ran off to the park. Though I couldn’t feel the rain pour down on me at all, I felt Jeong’s tears splash onto my face. They swept my damp bangs to the side and leaned down a bit to kiss my forehead, continuing to break down after it.

    “Jeong get up!” Scottie yelled. “We need to take him to the hospital now!”

    They did so without a word but buried their tear-stained face into their hands as Scottie picked me up off the ground. I was beginning to feel tired, but I knew I had to fight hard to stay awake. Before he could carry me away and run to the car, I opened my lips and let out a heavy sigh.

    “Scottie,” I mumbled, my voice barely audible.

    “Wh-what is it, Isaac?” he stuttered, trying his best to hold back his tears.

    “If I die —”

    “Don’t fucking say that man, please.”

    “I said ‘if,’ you asshole,” I sighed, taking a moment before speaking again. “If I die, I just wanna let you know that you and Jeong are the bestest friends I’ve ever had.”

    “But we’re both more than that,” he corrected me.

    “I know. What I’m saying is that I love you two both, as a lover and as a friend.”

    Scottie stood there for a second, but then started running as he held me tight in his arms. Jeong and Jules followed him, but they had to trail behind a bit to avoid a miscarriage. When we got to the car, Scottie opened the door and laid me down in the back seat. I laid on my back, breathing heavily and stared at the roof of the car until his face was hovering over mine. Gently, he pushed lips against mine and caressed my cheek. He stayed still like this for a moment, until he finally decided to pull away while he let his fingers linger on my cheek for a little longer.

    “We love you,” he wept, finally letting a tear roll down his cheek.

    “I love you too,” I whispered. I then fell asleep, unsure if I would wake up tomorrow.


	19. Jeong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: pregnancy and mention of suicide. 
> 
> This is the last chapter in the 70s arc.

    While Scottie drove Isaac to the hospital and stayed there, Jules told me that the best thing to do was to stay home. I didn’t complain about it since they decided to stay at our house as well. Though I knew I had to do this to keep the baby in good health, I could not stop thinking about Isaac. The day after the shooting, I called Scottie using the house phone and asked him if it was alright to visit.

    “No, Jeong,” he murmured at the end of the line. “Right now is not the best time.”

    “Bu-but how come?” I stuttered, worried that something terrible happened to him.

    “Trust me. You wouldn’t want to be here right now.”

    I didn’t bother arguing with Scottie, so I told him bye and hung up the phone. And since the shooting, I remained anxious about the whole situation and nearly had an anxiety attack until Jules came over to me and calmed me down. I only ended up crying, sobbing on Jules’ shoulder as they hugged me tightly and rubbed my back.

    “He’ll make it, honey,” they reassured. “I promise.”

    “Bu-but what if?!” I sobbed, facing Jules again.

    “He won’t die, I promise. His situation is different from Maddie’s.”

    “How’d she die?”

    “If I remember correctly, she was shot right in the stomach multiples times. Now, Isaac was only shot twice in his side.”

    “I guess that makes me feel a little better, but I still feel so bad.”

    “Why, darling?”

    Letting go of Jules, I moved to the farther side of the couch and laid down on my back, whimpering.

    “Because she died,” I said, “and she meant so much to Scottie.”

    “Oh, that’s completely understandable,” they agreed. “She was a really good friend.”

    “What was she like? Scottie never really got to talk about her.”

    Jules slipped their shoes off, then leaning back on the couch while they watched the news.

    “She was a shy but sweet girl,” they began. “She always had trouble opening up to people, but when she met me and Scottie, she could talk for hours and hours. She always smelled like fruit, specifically oranges which was funny because she came from Florida. And she was always very organized. If she saw Scottie’s office today, she probably would’ve flipped out. She was pretty sarcastic too.”

    “Is that where Scottie picked it up from?” I asked, smiling for the first time in a day.

    “Oh, yes. They were always a sarcastic couple, but they always had the best sense of humor. And of course, she loved the Beatles so much.”

    “Who was her favorite Beatle?”

    “I’m going to be honest with you: I don’t remember.”

* * *

 

    On the next day, August 8th, Scottie called the house in the morning. Jules answered the phone for me since I was still in my bedroom, contemplating on whether to get out of bed or not. I was ready to go back to sleep, but then they barged into my room and went up to me, yanking my sheet away.

    “Wake up, Jeong,” they said. “We’re visiting Isaac today.”

    The moment I heard that sentence my eyes peeled open and I sat straight up, climbing out of bed and walked over to my drawer to find an outfit to wear.

    “How’s he doing right now?” I whipped my head around, staring back at Jules.

    “If only I knew,” they wished. “Scottie didn’t tell me anything other than, ‘You and Jeong need to come visit today.’”

    “Did he sound worried?”

    “Not . . . really. He sounded tired though.”

    “He must’ve been staying up these past two nights,” I yawned, pulling a sweater from one of my drawers. “We both love him so much.”

    “That’s what friends are for, my dear.”

    After I gotten dressed that morning and ate breakfast, which consisted of eating six pancakes, Jules and I left the house and headed our way to the hospital. I gave Jules permission to drive since I was still too tired to focus on anything; I didn’t want my stomach to distract me from driving either. I tried taking a small nap on our way to the hospital, pulling on the lever by my side to recline my seat back. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and then let out an exhausted exhale as I tried to fall asleep. I couldn’t keep track of how much time had passed, but I didn’t let that interrupt my slumber. My anxiety kept me on edge for the past few days, so I thought I deserved a break for once in my damn life. I was going through so much at this time, and I wanted to forget about it for a while.

    My power nap was peaceful, but all I saw was darkness in that dreamless state of mine. It freaked me out for a moment when I woke up, but I forgot about it when we parked our car in the parking lot of the hospital. I didn’t say a word as we got out, not knowing what to say about the situation now. Sure, I wanted to distract myself from my worries, but I was too anxious to think about anything else. I thought about Isaac, only Isaac; I know that my life wouldn’t be completely over if something dreadful happened to him, but if so, I wouldn’t have a sense of direction in my life anymore.

    “Are you doing better than yesterday?” Jules asked me as we entered the main lobby.

    I shrugged. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know how to feel right now.”

    “Really? You seem so calm right now.”

    “I know . . . I get that a lot.”

    Jules couldn’t understand my condition, but regardless of what I told them just now, they hugged me.

    “It’ll be alright,” they reassured. “This is only temporary.”

    “I hope so,” I sighed, slowly pushing them away. “Let’s just get this over with.”

    “Of course.”

    When I walked up to the front desk and told the receptionist that we came to visit Isaac, she called a nurse over and ordered her to guide us to his room. It wasn’t as far as I thought it would be, but we took the elevator since his room was a floor above us. As soon as we reached the door, she opened it up for us and allowed us in. I felt dreadful about what was ahead of me, but when I looked up and saw Isaac laughing with Scottie, I rushed over to his bedside and gave him the biggest hug, not letting go of him.

    “God, you’re a lot stronger than I remembered,” he chuckled.

    “It’s only been two days!” I said, going along with the joke.

    “Two days is a long time when you’re sitting in bed doing nothing.”

    I chuckled, letting go of Isaac as I grabbed a chair from the other side of the room. I sat down in it, sitting close to his bedside while I held his hand in mine.

    “So, how are you doing son?” Jules asked Isaac. “You’re not dying, right?”

    “Oh, I feel great!” he replied, sounding enthusiastic. “The doctors told me that I’m gonna be fine, but I’ll have to stay for a few more days in case anything else comes up.”

    “That’s great though!” I exclaimed. “I’ve been worried sick these past few days and just hearing that from you made my whole week!”

    “I’m glad it did,” he smiled, clutching my hand a little harder.

    “Haven’t you heard though?” Scottie inquired, jumping into the conversation. “Lee was arrested yesterday.”

    My eyes widened and the smile on my face was no more. I wanted to cry, but for some reason, I couldn’t, and it wasn’t because I lacked empathy. I forced my eyes to water up, but I felt nothing but frustration. I gave up, leaning back in my chair as I let out a long, dejected sigh.

    “Why the long face?” Scottie asked with concern.

    “I wish we could’ve saved him earlier,” I mumbled, lacking emotion in my voice. “I —”

    “Nothing could be done,” Isaac interrupted me. “I’m sorry.”

    “It’s not your fault,” I said. At this point, I could feel the water well up in the corner of my eyes. “I just don’t understand why this had to happen to all of us.”

    “What?” Scottie inquired. “Isaac being shot?”

    “Not just that,” I replied. “I don’t get why we all had to suffer through this.”

    Everyone in the room fell silent, not sure what to say about all of this. I didn’t mind because none of us understood why life was so horrible to us — or why the demons had to mess with us. Why Isaac? Why Reagan? Why Scottie? Why Jules? And why me? Why us out of all people? I do recognize that not everyone leads a happy life, but why are we among these people?

    “That’s how life is,” Jules said bluntly. “You win some, you lose some.”

    I wanted to object Jules’ statement but I realized that at the end of the day, it was true. No one in the world gets everything they want — not even when you’re rich — because something, or someone, is always out to ruin your day. Even if you bypass it somehow, it’ll come back to you.

    “I guess so,” I mumbled, turning my head to the TV. The news was on, showing coverage of Reagan walking into the courthouse. Just by looking into his gaze, I knew he didn’t do it, but he couldn’t tell the world what really happened on that rainy August day.

* * *

 

    My sweet little boy Carlos Ara-Jones was born on the tenth of January in 1978, grasping my thumb in his tiny fist once I held him in my arms. No words could describe how happy I was that day, despite me freaking out over my pregnancy back in June. In the end, I was glad that he came into my life, even at the most unexpected time. Upon bringing him home, he changed all three of our lives forever. Even though I still had my worst days, Carlos brought Isaac and Scottie closer to me. Though I decided to not enter a romantic relationship with Scottie, we became best friends and would help me take care of Carlos whenever Isaac went to work. As for Isaac — for the sake of our son and himself, he finally decided to see a therapist, and he brought Scottie along with him, because Lord knew that he needed help as well. Scottie was doing a lot better though; as time progressed, I saw him take fewer naps in his office and he began to fix his sleep schedule.

    It was the middle of June now, and Carlos was only five months old. He was crying like crazy earlier, rejecting everything that I tried to offer him: his bottle, that nasty baby food, trying to hold him in my arms. He cried and cried until Isaac snatched a blanket and grabbed him from my arms. He opened the back door and went outside, walking in the backyard until he laid the blanket down on the grass and sat down with our son. I got up off the couch and went to the back porch, resting my arms on the handrail while I stood there and watched them. Carlos wasn’t doing much, but he stopped wailing and was crawling all over the blanket. Isaac smiled, extending his arms outward to the baby.

    “Come to daddy!” he beamed, continuing to smile as Carlos crawled toward him. When he climbed into his lap, Isaac lifted him up high into the air and he broke out giggling. Isaac brought him back down, kissing him on his forehead as Carlos continued to laugh. I smiled at the sight, turning my head to look at the trees ahead of me. At that moment, all felt right with the world until I turned my head in the other direction and saw a man nearby.

    He stood there, leaning against the tree and watched Isaac and Carlos. I was about to scream at first, not recognizing who he was, but when I observed his face carefully, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was only Reagan, who had dyed his hair brown. When I got off the back porch, I ran up to him and started hugging him, sobbing into his shoulder while he ran his fingers through my hair.

    “I thought you were dead,” I cried, pulling my head away to face him. He didn’t seem disturbed, but I looked deep into his eyes and saw only regret. “I really thought you were dead, Reagan.”

    Isaac got up and grabbed Carlos, surprised that Reagan made an appearance.

    “I thought you died,” Isaac whispered. “Didn’t you kill yourself in prison?”

    “I did,” Reagan mumbled, letting go of me as he looked away, observing the trees in the distance. “And I did die.”

    “But you’re alive!” I nearly raised my voice. “How?!”

    Reagan sighed along with the wind, which raced through the trees. He didn’t say anything for a minute or two, and just as I was getting ready to go back inside, he caught my wrist and I turned to him.

    “I died,” he repeated. “I was dead for a minute, but I had a talk with God.”

    “No way,” I denied, shaking my head. “That’s bullshit.”

    “I’m not lying, Jeong.” He was about to start crying, letting a tear roll down his cheek. “You know I never lie. I really did talk to him. I never saw his face but I knew it was him.”

    “But what did he tell you?” I questioned him, making sure that he wasn’t lying, or wasn’t an impostor of some sort.

    He rested his head in his right hand, trying to get his thoughts together for a moment. The real Reagan always thought hard about everything, so I knew that it was him, but I wasn’t sure if I were to believe in him or not.

    “When I died, the only thing that was around me was light,” he recalled, wiping a tear away. “I was very scared, and I had already regretted killing myself. I started freaking out, and it eventually got to the point where I had a breakdown. I thought it was all over until I heard his voice.”

    “And what happened?” Isaac urged him to continue, rubbing Carlos’ back to prevent him from crying.

    “It happened so quickly, but I still remember it. He asked me if I was ready to go, but I kept crying and begged him for a second chance. I thought that was the end right there, but I heard a boom and saw a door open. I saw nothing but a bright orange light and he told me to go.”

    He paused the conversation, sobbing for a moment before he calmed down and went on with it.

    “I went through that door,” he wept, “and before I knew it, I was back at my old apartment and in my bed. I was so thankful to be alive, and to see Laurie again, but I . . .”

    He wanted to finish his sentence, but instead, he fell into my arms and broke down right there. I wasn’t sure what to say to him, so I dragged him along and let him sit down on the blanket. Isaac and I sat down with him, trying to figure out how to calm him down until Carlos broke away from Isaac and started crawling towards Reagan. When he started playing with the necklace, Reagan stopped crying and looked at Carlos, who was giggling at him. Though he couldn’t smile, he held the baby in his arms and started talking to him.

    “Hey, lil guy,” he sniffled, holding his hand gently. “How are ya?”

    Carlos cooed in response, then giggled when Reagan rubbed his tummy. Though there were still beads of tears rolling down his cheeks, he smiled at the baby and then looked up to me.

    “What’s his name?” he asked softly.

    “Carlos Reagan Ara-Jones,” I revealed. He appeared to be exhausted, but he still looked shocked when I told him his full name.

    “You . . . you named him after me?”

    “We thought it was a nice tribute,” Isaac added. “We wanted to remember you somehow.”

    “That’s really nice of you. And congratulations on the baby.”

    “Thank you,” Isaac and I thanked him at the same time. After the conversation ended, Reagan gave Carlos back to Isaac and got up off the ground, beginning to walk to the driveway.

    “Wait!” I blurted, grabbing Reagan’s shoulder to stop him. “Where are you going?”

    “Away,” he murmured. “You know I’m still a wanted man, Jeong.”

    “But will I ever see you again?”

    He stared down at the ground, unable to answer my question. He sighed, grabbing my thin, delicate hand and stared at it.

    “That I can’t answer,” he apologized. “I’ll still write to you. If you ever get a letter from Reagan Cox, that’s me. But to see you in person . . . I can’t for a while. I have to go back to Floresco.”

    “Floresco? You mean in Reneo?” I inquired.

    “Yes,” he nodded. “I moved away right after I came back.”

    “That’s pretty far, but at least you’re safe.”

    “Yeah.”

    I let go of his shoulder, waiting for him to walk away. Instead, pulls me into his arms and hugs me one last time.

    “Goodbye,” he whispered into my ear. “I’m gonna miss you, Ara.”

    “So will I,” I said quietly. “I’ll always be here in Chicago if you need me.”

    He stopped hugging me and held out his pinky, waiting for me to seal a promise. “You promise?”

    I smiled, gripping my pinky onto his and hugged him one last time. “I promise.”

    We stood there and hugged each other for another minute, and then we finally separated, pulling our pinky fingers away. Reagan exchanged his goodbyes with Isaac and then kissed Carlos on the forehead before we all walked to the driveway. Laurie was there, sitting inside a Ford Pinto waiting on Reagan. Before he could get inside the car, I asked him one final question.

    “Reagan!” I called, walking up to his window to ask him something. “Are you still possessed?”

    “Nope!” he smiled, putting on his sunglasses. “God did his job and got rid of that son of a bitch. I’m a free man now!”

    I grinned, relieved to hear that he was doing much better now. I know that he still had his troubles, but a new future awaited him back in Floresco. Once the car backed out of the driveway, Reagan waved goodbye to us as he left the horrors of his past behind. And just like that, he was gone. Though he promised that he would write to me, I was going to miss him.

    Isaac and I went back into the house, putting Carlos in his crib for a nap. The boy fell asleep immediately, exhausted from crying so much earlier. I thought that it was perfect timing because when I left his room, Isaac left for work again and Scottie came home from a meeting. Since it was getting late, I asked Scottie if he could read _Devilman_ to me like he had been doing these past few days. He nodded and went back to his room to retrieve the last volume, opening it up to the last page we were on. Scottie sat down on the couch while I laid there, staring at the ceiling while I listened to him read it aloud.

    “After the battle, Akira and Ryo laid there on the earth and looked up at the moon,” he described the scene to me. “‘So beautiful,’ Ryo said. ‘It’s the only thing that hasn’t changed in all these millions of years.’”

    I nodded, thinking about how the moon has known me for my entire life. While it wasn’t always there for me, it always kept my life in balance. And right now was that moment where everything was alright, except for one thing.

    “When he realized that Akira died,” Scottie continued, “Ryo looked down at his corpse and said, ‘You fell asleep, huh? An eternal slumber.’ He sat there and mourned the death of his friend and the love his life until the angels came and took back the earth.”

    And that’s when I started crying again, mourning for both Akira and Ryo when I realized what the two reminded me of.


	20. Ocean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: Violence (attempted murder), usage of the r slur, and mentions of drugs and child sex abuse. 
> 
> This chapter introduces the 80s arc, Winter's Girl, and the new protagonists: Ocean Gore, Ira Korrapati, and Bona Leon.

    When it came to learning in school, I wasn’t . . . always a fast learner. Not that I was a stupid kid or anything, but it would take me forever to understand a concept or two, or I would get things mixed up.

    “Alright class,” my second-grade teacher said. “Can anyone describe the structure of the atoms in a liquid?”

    Of course, no one bothered to raise their hand because none of us wanted to answer her question. Mrs. Colds stared at all of us with her ironic cold stare, particularly at me when she walked by the row of desks that I sat at.

    “I guess I’ll call on one of you,” she decided, pointing at me. “How about you, Leslie? Can you do it?”

    I looked up at her with my big blue eyes, resting my cheek in the palm of my hand. I had to think about it for a minute since I was so slow at processing information, but eventually, I took so long that when I looked up at the teacher again, she was pressing her lips together and raised her eyebrows.

    “Well, do you know Leslie?” she said slowly.

    “Umm . . .” I mumbled. “Isn’t it like very loose? And the atoms go very fast?”

    Right after I answered the question, I knew that I was wrong but the teacher didn’t want to admit it.

    “Well . . . you’re close,” she told me. “Will someone else like to answer?”

    I looked around the classroom and spot one student raising her hand, who was none other than Cindy Mallory, playing with her curly brown hair with her other hand.

    “Cindy,” Mrs. Colds called. “What do you think?”

    “Well, um . . .” Cindy left her sentence trailing for a second but took less time to think about it. “It’s loose, so the shape can have any form, and it takes the volume of any container.”

    “Very good!” she smiled at Cindy, but when she turned her back away, she scowled at the rest of us. “Why can’t the rest of you be as perfect as Cindy?” In reality, she was insulting me but didn’t want to be held responsible for bullying me. Though the kids were urgent to report her, they decided to keep quiet about it just to watch her pick on me.

    And of course, it didn’t end there. Things got much worse in middle school when all the different cliques started coming in, but at the same time, we were all nobodies — unless you were in sports. We were all different in many ways but a lot of people thought that I was . . . too different, or just weird according to them. I was one of the quiet kids, listening to punk when it was becoming a thing. I didn’t dress nicely either, not that I was poor or anything, but my style differed from everyone. Instead of wearing preppy clothes or skirts, I always had a leather jacket on and I wore boys’ clothes. I never really liked wearing girls’ clothes, considering how uncomfortable it made me. Being girly was never my thing, and I couldn’t stand the texture of the clothes either.

    “Why do you always wear those clothes?” Cindy asked me once as we walked to class, sounding disgusted. I pretended that I didn’t hear her, but then she grabbed the sleeve of my jacket and yanked me back. “What’s the matter with you, you airhead?!”

    “Nuh-Nothing?” I stuttered, lying through my braced teeth. “I don’t think I heard ya.”

    “Great, just what we need in this world. Another deaf retard!”

    She pushed me away, heading off to her next class with her friends. That wasn’t the first time someone called me that dreaded, foul word. For the rest of middle school, it stuck to me due to the fact that I wasn’t doing well in school sometimes. I did my best, but whenever I came home with a few D’s on my report card, my mom would flip out.

    “What the fuck is going on, Leslie?!” she screamed at me. “Why are you doing this again?”

    I shrugged, trying my best not to cry in front of her. She always hated it whenever I did that, especially since I was “trying to be a boy.”

    “Honey, be gentle with her,” my dad advised. “You know she’s always had trouble with school since she was little.”

    “Yeah, but she’s being more stupid than usual!”

    Mom was always harsh towards me, but it had gotten so bad that by the end of middle school, my parents were divorced. Of course, I lived with my dad when I went on to high school. He was still a strict parent, but he gave me his reasons whenever he said no, even if I disagreed with him. All in all, he was trying to be a good parent and look out for me.

    “Can I please go see _Friday the 13th_?” I asked him the week it came out.

    “Uhh . . . no,” he shook his head. “It might be too much for you, Les.”

    “C’mon, dad, I’m 15!”

    “Remember when you were ten and we went to go see _Jaws_?”

    “And then I cried for a week? That was forever ago.”

    “I know but . . .” he sighed, coughing up a bit. “Listen, I’ll take you to see a better movie a few weeks from now. Okay?”

    “Really?”

    “Yeah, kiddo, I promise.”

    My hopes were up, but when we went to the movies a few weeks later, I found out that the “surprise” movie was _The Empire Strikes Back_. It wasn’t that bad of a movie, but I wasn’t into that nerdy sci-fi shit and the movie was too long. Right when Darth Vader told Luke that he was his father, I passed out and took a nap for the rest of the movie.

    If anyone ever told you that high school was going to be the best four years of your life, they are lying to you. Either that or they were one of those popular kids that thought that being popular was the key to success. Obviously, it wasn’t, but that’s a story for another day. Like I said before, high school being the best years of your life is a total myth. At this time in my life, I began to experience some changes; I was gaining weight for the first time, I was moody, and my sex drive was out of control. For the last part, I thought it was normal for my age. However, my dad revealed a secret to me, one that I wish I never knew about. Shortly after my sixteenth birthday, we had a talk in the car while driving to the grocery store.

    “Leslie,” my dad began, “there’s a reason why I’m bringing you to the store with me.”

    “Lemme guess,” I said, looking out the window. “You want me to get a job already?”

    “Haha no, it’s not that.” He made a turn onto another street before continuing the conversation. “It’s . . . something more serious.”

    “Am I in trouble?”

    “No, no, not at all. But this is gonna be upsetting for me to talk about.”

    “Why?”

    Before we had a chance to talk about it, we arrived at Meijer’s and got out of the car to go grocery shopping. Luckily, we didn’t shop for long since all we needed that day was a gallon of milk and a bag of peaches, which were my favorite fruit. Business that day was slow too, so we didn’t have to wait in line for long to get our items checked out. After we left the store and got back to the car, Dad asked me about someone in particular.

    “Do you remember Mr. Donnie?”

    “Yeah,” I replied. “He’s your friend, right?”

    “He was when he used to babysit you a long time ago.”

    He  _was_ his friend. Something happened between them, but I wasn’t sure why I was involved in this. Then again, I always wondered what happened to Mr. Donnie when I haven’t seen him in years.

    “And what happened?” I asked. “Did you guys got into a big fight or something?”

    “Well,” he continued. “I figured you don’t remember because of what happened.”

    “What happened?” I was beginning to feel frustrated since he seemed to be avoiding the question.

    “You were quiet about it for a while, but when we came home early one time and he left, you told us about what he did to you.”

    “Wait.” I was starting to remember it now, but I remembered why I purposefully forgot about it. “Then he . . .”

    “Yeah. He molested you.”

    “More than once,” I recalled. I wish I didn’t remember it, but it explained so much of what I did. No wonder I jacked off so much or was already havings flings in my freshman year of high school. I was never sure of the emotional purpose, but after that talk, I knew what happened to me to make me do those things. I did them for pleasure, but sometimes I would do it out of sadness. And that’s when my depression would come into place.

    Just when I thought the bullying and harassment would end in middle school, a lot of people at school — usually boys — would call me degrading names, especially if they hated me for whatever reason. And they didn’t just hate me for sleeping around either; at this time in my life, I picked up on various goth bands and well, I was one of those goth kids that no one liked or was afraid of.

    “Fuck off you retarded whore.”

    “Go away you fat slut, you freak me out!”

    “You’re such a stupid ho!”

    “You’re just goth for attention, are you?”

    “Get lost, you dumb cunt.”

    I tried to not let it get to me, but over time I began to lose interest in school and my mental state only got worse. I took up self-harm at the start of my sophomore year and that’s when my grades began to slip. Those were easy to fix, but for some time I lost all interest in life and became a nihilist. “ _It won’t matter if I die_ ,” I thought. “ _What is there to live for anyway? No one will care._ ” I contemplated suicide for a few good months, and I even started giving some of my stuff away when I figured that I was going to go through with it. However, my outlook on life changed during my sophomore year.

    It was the beginning of March, but it didn’t feel like it was going to warm up anytime soon. Rather, it was cold and dreary outside and in the school bathrooms. Usually, they were warm but back in November of 1980, the heater broke and the school forgot to hire an electrician to fix it. So, no one bothered to go to the bathrooms in the main building, except for me; I wanted to be alone in the morning, and I thought that hiding in the bathrooms in morning would be perfect. That’s what I did for a few months until some students found out about it one morning.

    On that freezing March day as soon as I got to school, I zoomed down the hallways and went into one of the bathroom stalls, standing there as I listened to “Christine” by Siouxsie and the Banshees on my portable Walkman. No one else would come into the bathroom, so I stood there as usual and zoned out, daydreaming about whatever scenario I left off at. I turned my music all the way up too, so I couldn’t hear what was going on outside unless the bell rang. However, when I thought I heard something, I turned down the volume and turned off my Walkman, listening closely to what was happening. I heard a conversation going on, which belonged to Cindy and her group of meddling punks. None of them were punk kids, but just a bunch of jerks and stuck-ups hanging out in the bathroom for whatever reason. Suddenly, I smelt something grassy and weird.

    “Y’sure ya wanna do this, Cindy?” I heard one guy ask. “We could get expelled.”

    “Not if you don’t get caught,” Cindy replied. “And relax, Danny. This stuff’s totally harmless.”

    Even though I suspected she was talking about weed, smelling it would make me anxious for no reason. Everyone said it was supposed to be relaxing for you, but I already tried it once and it only made my anxiety worse. Putting my headphones back on, I turned my Walkman on and opened the stall door, beginning to walk away. I pretended to ignore the group as I walked to the exit, but as I was approaching the door, someone grabbed the sleeve of my leather jacket and pulled me back. I turned my head and saw Jesse Wallace, the blonde jock that was friends with Cindy.

    “And where do you think you’re going, Leslie?” he inquired.

    “To class?” I said, being a smart ass.

    “Very funny,” Cindy said sarcastically. “How about you smoke with us?”

    “No, no thank you.” I shook my head, yanking Jesse’s hand off my sleeve and pushing it away. “I’ve already tried.”

    “Maybe you smoked a bad strand.”

    “I said no thanks.”

    I smiled nervously at the group and dashed to the exit, but another one of her friends stood in my way and blocked my path. I tried to get around her, but she pushed me down to the ground. Luckily for me, I landed on my butt and was able to get up without a problem, but when I stood up, Cindy came up to me and punched me in the face. It didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would — I’ve been hit worse — but I still cursed the hell outta her.

    “Ohhh, Leslie’s being a bad girl,” she mocked me, talking to me as if I were a baby. “Do you need a spanking?”

    “Go ahead, bitch!” I yelled. “Go ahead! Kill me if you like!” Part of me was joking about the killing part, but the other half of me really wanted to be dead. Surprisingly, Cindy pulled a switchblade out of her purse, pointing it at me.

    “You ready to fucking die?!” she yelled at me.

    “Y’know, I was being sarcastic,” I said, laughing nervously afterward. However, I knew that it was too late and I ran out of there, with Cindy chasing after me with the switchblade in her hand. And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, the bell for homeroom rang and a sea of students began to fill the hallways.

    No one noticed what was going on for a second, but when Cindy slashed someone’s arm by mistake while running after me, there was a sudden uproar.

    “Everyone, get the fuck outta here!” the victim hollered. “Cindy’s on a rampage!”

    “I never liked that bitch anyway!” someone else shouted.

    I pushed and shoved people out of my way, but some of them already took off when they saw Cindy running. I tried not to look back, but when I turned my head once I saw that she was a few feet away from me. I sped up a bit, but eventually slowed down when I reached the front office. I stopped in my tracks when I entered the room, but I turned again and Cindy tackled me, bringing us both down to the ground. She sat up on my stomach and lifted up my arm, slashing a few, quick wounds with the switchblade. I screamed for help, but she pulled me up off the ground and punched me in the nose.

    “Dammit!” I cursed, covering up my nose. She then punched the side of my head and punched me again in the jaw. I attempted to defend myself, but she cut my arm again and left a cut on the left side of my face. Cindy pushed me up against a wall, ready to end it all, but just as she was about to stab me, two police officers came up and held her back.

    “Fuck you!” she spat, waving the switchblade around. However, the principal arrived and pried it out of her hands, slamming it down on the front desk.

    “Get her outta here!” he ordered. “She clearly has no reason to go here anymore, so take her away.”

    “You can go to Hell!” she hissed.

    “Take her away.” He turned away from Cindy and faced me, who was sitting down in one of the waiting chairs while crying it all out. The principal sat down next to me, patting me on the back.

    “She’s gone now, Leslie,” he told me. “She’s not coming back either, so you don’t need to worry about her anymore.”

    I looked up at him, my bottom lip quivering as I wiped my nose, smearing a bit of blood across my face. I wanted to say something, but I was too upset to say anything at all. Not was it because I couldn’t get my thoughts together, but I simply felt like I couldn’t, so I sat there and continued to cry my heart out. For the time being, the principal sat next to me and gave me as much reassurance as possible.

    “You can go home in a bit if you’d like to,” he suggested. “I’ll dismiss class for the day.”

    I nodded my head, letting out another sob.

    “It’ll be alright,” he said. “I promise. It’s a rough world out there, but there’s a lot of nice people to reach out to.”

    “ _I seriously doubt that,_ ” I thought. “ _People are only nice to you if you’re one of them._ ” Again, I didn’t respond but stopped crying. I still looked like a mess, wiping away another tear and glared at my arm, which was still healing from the cuts. Even though I wanted to die in the past, I realized that there was still so much more to do in the future. If Cindy succeeded in killing me, I wouldn’t be able to do anything anymore. Life sucked, but I knew that I had to live to see what tomorrow would bring me.

    “Should I call your father?” the principal asked, getting up out of the chair.

    “Yes, please,” I said. “Thank you.”

    Since that day, my perspective on life changed and so did my life. Both didn’t completely change overnight, but it took awhile to bring myself back to reality and fix up shit. My grades still suffered for another week or two, but by the end of my sophomore year of high school, I made A’s and B’s. They were all in regular classes, but I thought it was good enough then. I still had no friends and some boys were still calling me names and all, but I had my comebacks.

    “Having big tits doesn’t count if you’re fat,” a guy insulted me while I was getting a book out of my locker.

    “Having a big dick doesn’t count if you are one,” I replied. Students around me broke out in laughter, insulting the guy in my defense.

    “It’s true!” a girl near me said. “He’s only four inches long!”

    As for my mental health, I still struggled but I was beginning to learn how to cope with my feelings. One of the first steps I took was that I stopped sleeping with a bunch of guys, considering how rude they were to me in the first place. I still had sex occasionally, but I discovered that I loved women a lot more than men; there were still a lot of pretty boys out there, but most of them went to the neighboring high schools. Boys at Walnut Hills High School were something else I wasn’t so sure about.

    Speaking of girls, in the middle of October of 1981, a new student transferred to my school; I wasn’t sure about introducing myself to her since most of the new kids turned out to be jerks, but eventually, I got the opportunity to. While in AP Language once, the teacher told us to get into pairs to work on a group activity. Having no one else to work with, I went up to the new girl and asked her if she wanted to work with me.

    “Sure!” she smiled. “My name’s Melanie by the way, but just call me Mel.”

    “I’m just Leslie,” I said.

    It was hard for me to open up at first since I was used to being alone, and I was just awkward at conversation. Eventually, I got the ball rolling and I learned a bit more about Mel during that class period.

    “So do you like sports?” I asked, noticing that she was wearing a letterman jacket.

    “Eh,” she shrugged, jotting a few things down on her paper before continuing. “As much as I love basketball, I’d rather sit at home and play with my drums.”

    “What kind of music do ya like?”

    “Styx is pretty radical, so are Plasmatics and the Cure.”

    “You love the Plasmatics? And the Cure too?”

    “Totally!”

    “They’re my favorite bands actually!” I remarked. “You kinda come off as someone who would listen to Fleetwood Mac though.”

    “I do listen to them a bit,” she admitted. “And you kinda remind me of Stevie Nicks, except your hair is lighter.”

    “Oh, thanks! It’s not my natural color but I like it.”

    “I do too, I think it suits you.”

    I didn’t know what to say, but I appreciated her compliment and smiled. Despite not talking a whole lot in class that day, we became best friends and soon enough the small clique of punk and goth kids formed at our school. We didn’t need anyone else but ourselves, and that was okay. To me, quality mattered to me much more than quantity. And just from hearing a bunch of gossip and rumors, the more friends you had, the more problems you were going to deal with. Of course, we still had our issues within the group, but none of us ended our friendships over a stupid boy or whatever.

    When April of 1983 arrived, I went to my psychologist to receive some results of a procedure I went through a few weeks before. One of them was for depression, but I wasn’t quite what the other one for, but she told me that it would explain a lot about myself.

    “You suffer from depression,” she told me, even though it was already obvious to me. “When your psychiatrist comes back from vacation, she’ll prescribe you with some medication. You can wait, right?”

    “Yes,” I nodded. “I’m doing fine now, especially with school and all that stuff.”

    “That’s very good to hear. Anyway, I’ll look at your other diagnosis and then we’ll talk about that, okay?”

    “Sure.”

    When my psychologist went back to her office, I stared down at my bracelet and started playing with the beads. While it was a habit of mine since I was about six, I wasn’t sure why I did it so often, but it gave me something to do while I was waiting. Besides, it was better than being bored out of my mind. I waited for about five minutes until my psychologist came back, carrying a clipboard with her and sat on the couch across from me.

    “Okay,” she said, putting on her reading glasses. “Let’s see what we have here.”

    “Is it anything serious?” I queried, wondering what it could be.

    “Oh no, definitely not,” she shook her head. “It’s something you’ve had though since you were born, but you’ve turned out just fine.”

    “Well, what is it?”

    “According to the diagnosis we’ve received, I can confirm that you have autism.”

    Autism. I wasn’t very familiar with it, but I heard about it in the past. I asked my psychologist to explain it in detail, to see what it had to do with me.

    “Basically, everyone has their own way of thinking,” she began. “However, autistic people are different when it comes to cognitive thinking and they process information a little more differently.”

    “Like how?” I asked. “Like, can you give an example?”

    “Yes. When people have autism, they interpret some things differently than some people. They might be good at things that people normally find challenging, and have difficulty understanding something basic.”

    Just then I had a flashback to junior year, specifically to lunch when my friend group was talking about our AP Language class.

    “That class is so hard,” Mel groaned. “I have a seventy in there right now.”

    “I work my ass off but I still have a sixty-eight,” Joey complained. “I think it’s because I bombed that one paper.”

    “I thought that paper was easy,” I said with honesty. “But that class is very easy for me, I have a ninety-seven in there.”

    At that moment, everyone’s jaw dropped and looked at me as if I were a witch or sorcerer of some sort.

    “H-How?!” Cory blurted. “That class is insane!”

    “Dunno,” I shrugged, looking at my bracelet. “I’m just really good at English I guess.”

    “I believe that.”

    That same year, we had another conversation about the math classes we were taking. While the majority of my group was taking an advanced math course of some sort, Mel and I were in the same Algebra II class. Of course, we all knew who was the one struggling.

    “How’d you think you did on that trig final, Marie?” Cory asked another friend in the group.

    “Oh, ya know I totally aced it,” she bragged. “Trig got nothin’ on me.”

    “True,” Joey agreed. “That class is ridiculously easy. I have a ninety-four. How’s Algebra, Les?”

    I sat there and laughed nervously, playing with the beads of my bracelet while all of my friends just stared at me as they waited for my testimony.

    “I have a sixty-six in that class,” I confessed. “I never know what the fuck is going on in there.”

    “Well, you can fix it, I know you can,” Mel said. “If you ever need help though, I can come over whenever and help.”

    “I’ll remember that for next time.”

    “Aight.”

    That’s when I returned to the present, listening to my psychologist’s explanation of autism. For the rest of the visit, I thought about how my autism affected me for my whole life, making connections to things that stood out to me. No wonder I was so brilliant when it came to English and literature, or why I had trouble understanding basic concepts of chemistry. No wonder why I didn’t like the sensation of specific textures; touching chalk or even thinking about chalk always made me cringe so hard because the texture would always drive me nuts. This would also go hand-in-hand with certain foods, like mashed potatoes. People always gave me weird looks when I said I didn’t like mashed potatoes, but whenever I tried to eat them, I would almost end up choking.

    Not only was it the minor things that made me different, but it was always hard for me to socialize.

    “As an autistic person, you may have trouble interacting with others,” my psychologist stated. “This includes body language as well, and autistic people have a tendency of looking away to avoid eye contact when talking to others.”

    That point was another big one. Whenever I would make a presentation in class, it usually went smoothly. However, when I received the syllabus back from my teachers, I would receive the same exact comment every time: “Lack of eye contact.” I wasn’t a rude person though, but it always felt awkward to stare into a person’s eyes in fear of making them feel uncomfortable.

    I could go on forever on how autism affected me every day, but I knew that I would end up telling a novel-long story about my experience. At the end of the day though, I am still me. Well, I always have been, since I was informed that I’ve had it since I was baby. Regardless, I hoped that my diagnoses didn’t alter people’s general opinion of me. But in the meantime, I stayed quiet about it and focused on the future.

    After living in what was a constant hell for four years, I graduated on June 10th in the year of 1983. Despite some of my teachers belittling me for being “dumb” and people calling me a retard, I graduated with honors and was among the top twenty-five students in my graduating class. Some of the preps were pissed as hell at me, but I obviously didn’t care about their opinions. I was smart, but my brain just worked differently than theirs, and just because I don’t completely understand a certain subject, that didn’t mean I was stupid. Not every one of us had to think or learn in the same way; if that were the case, the world would be in a dark, dark place, and humanity wouldn’t advance.

    When the graduation ceremony was done and over with, Mel ran up to me and we gave each other a great, big hug.

    “We did it, Leslie!” she cheered, shaking me a bit when she was through with hugging me. “We made it!”

    “Yeah,” I replied. “We did. I’m so ready to go to college now.”

    “Really? Where you going?”

    “Oh, um, Cleveland State actually.”

    Mel let out a high-pitched shriek, but it was the best type of shriek I could hear from anyone.

    “Girl, me too!” she sang. “How come you didn’t tell me earlier?”

    “Oh, that?” I said. “I wanted to keep it a surprise.”

    “Well, that’s the best kind of surprise! Now I definitely can’t wait. We’re gonna have a good time!”

    “Totally!”

    That’s when I knew were we destined to be best friends, forever and ever.


	21. Ira

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: Violence, transmisogyny, and mentions of bullying, rape, and suicide.

    I’ve always hated my goddamned face. Even though I was grown now and my facial structure changed due to hormones, every once in awhile, my self-esteem would come crashing down and all of the sudden I wanted to claw my face off. But I was always sensitive to pain, so I would never lay a hand on it, but instead, I would retreat to my room and cry my eyes out. It’s been like that for as long as I could remember since I realized that I was different from other kids.

    My body was the first thing that would set me off, and my hair as well. For my entire life, I always knew that I was a girl, but things were slightly different for me then. Well, not so slightly. People would usually assume that I was a “woman stuck in a man’s body” or “a man wearing women’s clothes.” I wasn’t either of those, but unfortunately, I got those statements a lot. I know I’m a woman, I’ve always been a woman; I just happened to be born with a penis, another little thing for me to be uncomfortable about. When I was younger, I tried to tuck in my crotch so that it wouldn’t be so noticeable, but my older brother would mistake it for masturbation for a hundred percent of the time.

    “Mama, Daniel’s touching himself again!” he hollered across the room once.

    Of course, if you were in my place, you know how uncomfortable I was whenever that happened. And that was just the beginning of my harassment. I knew that my brother wasn’t aware of my gender crisis at the time, but I kept it to myself for some time, savoring each and every moment of peace I had left before I would witness the sheer horrors of coming out. Back then I knew it was a rough time to be a part of the gay community, but I figured that those who were transgender received a harsher backlash from society as we knew it. Even if you were just a man, if you wore makeup or dressed girly, people would hurl insults at you regardless of your social status.

    “You’ve seen that fellow David Sylvian in the magazines?” my uncle asked my father once during a conversation at dinner. “He looks trashy, and like a girl! Looks like a hooker addicted to crack.”

    My father didn’t know what to say, so he just went along and laughed. “I mean I guess you can say that,” he said. “I thought he was a poor fellow and couldn’t afford soap anymore.”

    “Same thing,” my uncle concluded. 

    I wanted to put my say into it, but I pretended to mind my business and quietly ate my chaaru. I didn’t really like my uncle that much, not because of what he said about David Sylvian, but he was nosy whenever he decided to visit. Mother would tell me to clean up my room before he came to visit because, for whatever reason, he would always walk into my room first and look at my stuff. And again, he would insult me; not really me, but the items I had up in my room.

    “What’s this, Danny?” he asked, sounding disgusted when found one of my Queen records. _“_ _ News of the World ?” _

    “It’s my favorite album,” I told him. “I like their music.”

    “That? That’s just a bunch of nonsense.”

    I frowned but didn’t dare to talk back to him unless I wanted my mother to whoop my butt. Despite my hatred for him, I couldn’t badmouth him to my parents even after he would leave the house. I didn’t bother to ask my parents why, but that was because I already knew the answer. My uncle meant a lot to my mom since he was the only family she had since my grandparents died in a freak car crash years ago. My father always took my mother’s side, so I couldn’t show any disrespect to him. However, I learned how to cope with it and kept a journal of all my thoughts and feelings through the years.

 

_     11th of March 1978 _

 

_     It’s still cold outside. I’m also mad because Leela left the Doctor during the newest episode of Doctor Who. And there’s not gonna be any new episodes for a few months! I should write for the show at BBC one day because the writers keep letting me down. I’m gonna stop there for now because I have too many strong opinions about this show! _

 

_     5th of May 1978 _

 

_     Mother said I could go to that Who concert as long as Uncle Dev could supervise me. No! I hate him! I’ll ask if Father could take me instead because I know that Dev will complain the entire time.  _

 

_     7th of August 1978 _

 

_     Got a haircut today and I honestly want to die because I look so ugly. I don’t think the hairdresser knew what she was doing. I’m kinda bald now, so thanks, Miss Debra. _

 

_     7th of September 1978 _

 

_     Keith Moon died today. I still don’t know what happened, but I knew he did suffer. At least he’s at peace now. _

 

    I kept the journal for about two years until a friend of mine gave me a new one as a Christmas present. My family and I didn’t celebrate the holiday, but I thought it was a nice thing for him to do. There, I started a new decade with a clean slate. Over time, however, my depressive thoughts grew worse and I was feeling very uncomfortable with how I was living. Living as someone I wasn’t made me physically nauseous at times. 

 

_     8th of November 1980 _

 

_     I threw up in the bathroom again. Thinking about living the rest of my life as a man makes me sick to my stomach — literally. Sometimes I wish I could rip my dick off and have it over with. I know that won’t happen for a while though. Ugh! _

 

    After I wrote that entry in my journal, I drew a bunch of scribbles on the opposite page to let out my frustration and threw the book down on the floor. I buried my face in my pillow and cried myself to sleep that night, not realizing it until I woke up the next morning to get ready for school. As my thoughts about my body grew worse and worse, I started to call myself a different name whenever I wrote a new entry. 

 

_     21st of January 1981 _

 

_     I think I’ll start going by Riya. It has a nice ring to it so why not? _

 

_     25th of February 1981 _

 

_     I don’t feel like that name Riya fits me anymore. It sounds too cheery and I know I’m not a cheerful person all the time. I think I’ll try out Eva. It sounds kinda bland, but Eva Korrapati doesn’t sound too bad.  _

 

_     6th of August 1981 _

 

_     Eva doesn’t work either. Maybe Mishti will be the one. I just hope I’ll be okay with it by the time I decide to tell my family. _

 

    Of course, I was very indecisive about the whole name thing and tried out a million more names before I finally settled down on one. After school one day, I headed to the Surbiton Library with my mother to borrow a few books for research as part of a school project that I was working on then. While she was occupied and talked to the head librarian, I went to the other side of the library and found a book I was meaning to look for. It wasn’t related to my project, but it was a book that consisted a list of girls’ names. Quickly, I flipped through the pages to see if I could find a name that would fit. I found a few and jotted them down in my notepad.

_     Prisha. _

_     Zara. _

_     Ira. _

_     Jiya. _

    “Daniel,” my mother called. “Are you ready to check out your books yet?”

    “I’ll be ready in a minute!” I said, raising my voice loud enough for my mother to hear. I gathered the two other books I had with me and headed to the front desk, where the librarian awaited me with a smile.

    “How are you doing, Danny?” she asked, stamping the book. “It’s been a few years.”

    “I’ve been good,” I lied. “School’s been getting harder lately.”

    “That’s what they all say! Just stay focused on your work and you’ll do fine.”

    “Thank you.”

    However, instead of doing my work when I got home, I opened my notepad and a book and laid them at my desk, pretending that I was reading one of the books — though I really wasn’t. I studied the names and applied them to certain scenarios to how fitting they were. Prisha was out in an instant, and Zara sounded too fancy for me, so I crossed out that name as well. And now it was down to Ira and Jiya. To me, Jiya sounded like a child’s name and I wasn’t so sure if I wanted to give myself that name. Ira was more mature sounding to me but made me sound like a boring person. However, I liked both names equally and couldn’t decide. 

    “I guess I’ll always be Danny,” I sighed, doodling on my notepad. Then, the idea came to me in a flash. Using my unstable cursive handwriting, I jot down the two names together in the middle of a new page and then wrote my last name. I put my pencil down and stared at the name for a moment.

 

_ Ira Jiya Korrapati _

 

    Ira Jiya . . . Korrapati. The flow of the name was the first thing I noticed, and I liked it very much. Of course, not only did I hate my birth name for being a boy’s name, Daniel Korrapati didn’t sound right at all, and there was no flow to it at all. Ira, on the other hand, did. And Ira Jiya sounded beautiful, and it reminded me of flowers and the hummingbirds I would find in our backyard. The name all together was perfect, and I saw that name as me: a beautiful, lovely girl who could care less about what the world thinks about her. 

    I closed the notepad right away when my mother called us to supper. I sighed but in relief this time. Now that I had a name and came to terms with my identity, I was ready to tell my family about it and finally get it over with. 

    “Daniel, hurry up!” my mother shouted. “Your supper is going to get cold!”

    “Coming, mama!” I replied. 

    I left my room and joined my family for supper, along with my uncle who was invited to eat with us for the billionth time. As soon as I sat down in my seat, the whole family started talking about my grades in school.

    “So how’s Danny doing in school right now?” my uncle inquired.

    “Wonderful!” my mother rejoiced. “He received good marks on the last report card he brought home.”

    “Good, good! Say, Danny, I know you’re only thirteen, but have you thought about what you’re going to do once you finish school?”

    I looked down at my supper and then turned back to my uncle.

    “Not really,” I said shyly. “I don’t know. I like art kinda.”

    “Ahh, interesting,” he nodded. “Have you ever heard of Andy Warhol? Kind of a weirdo, but his art is pretty neat!”

    “I . . . I think so.”

    “What’s the matter, son?” my father asked. “Anything happened at school?”

    No, of course not. Nothing bad happened at all, but I was scared that something will if I came out to my family. But at that moment, I knew that it was too late for me to go back. I had to tell them eventually and now was the perfect time to. I took a deep breath and then exhaled, eating a chunk of my noodles before I went ahead.

    “You will always love me no matter what, right?” I asked. My parents exchanged looks of confusion, but they didn’t seem upset in the slightest.

    “Of course we will,” my father replied. “Why do you ask?”

    “He’s probably gay,” my older brother joked. “Are you gay, Danny?!”

    “Be quiet, Al!” my mother smacked him lightly at the back of his head. “Have some respect for your brother!

    “Geez, sorry! I was only joking!”

    “Well, what’s on your mind, Danny?” my uncle asked. “What is it that you have to say?”

    My mind panicked for a moment, not knowing how I was going to say it. I knew that I had to tell them that I wasn’t a boy, but I wasn’t too sure about how to say it. I didn’t want to be rude to my family, but I wanted to make my point clear that I no longer wished to be seen as a boy. After I swallowed more of my food, I set my fork down and sat up straight. Though I didn’t start yet, I could feel myself starting to sweat already.

    “I have thought about this for a long time,” I began. “I’ve known this since I was little, and I thought it was about time I tell you all something. It’s very important.”

    “Go ahead,” my mother said. “What is it?”

    “Well . . .” I thought I could hold it in, but when I knew that it was too late, I felt a tear trickle down my cheek. “I wanna be a girl, Mama! I know it’s hard to believe, but I don’t wanna be a boy anymore. I never felt like one. I’m so sorry.”

    I buried my face in my hands, expecting to get yelled at by my entire family. However, the room fell silent and I heard nothing but a whisper from my brother.

    “So you wanna be one of those drag queens or whatever?”

    “No, Al, I don’t think that’s what . . .” my mother wanted to address me, but she wasn’t so sure what to call me anymore. At that moment, that’s when I knew I made the right choice. Unexpectedly, I felt someone tapped on my shoulder and I moved my hands away to see who it was. Surprisingly, it was my uncle, and he held his hand out toward me. 

    “Come on,”  he said. “We can talk about it outside.”

    He didn’t appear to be mad at me or anything, but I could detect a glimpse of sorrow in his eyes. Or was that happiness? Either way, I couldn’t tell how he felt about this. I got up from the chair and walked with him to the back porch outside, sitting on the cold steps. It was already snowing at this time of year, yet the both of us forgot to bring a coat. We sat there for a minute, looking out to the backyard in deep thought.

    “So . . .” he started. “How long have you felt like this again?”

    “Since . . . I was four I think,” I recalled. “I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to grow out my hair, or how much I’ve wanted to rip my dick off.”

    “That sounds a little extreme.”

    “It doesn’t though when . . . when you don’t want to live as a man anymore.”

    I stopped there, thinking I was done for. Sighing, I leaned and placed my face in my hands, staying there until my uncle rested his hand on my shoulder. I turned and looked at him straight in the eye, and instead of anger or stubbornness, I saw the face of a proud man.

    “Listen,” he said. “I can’t and will probably never understand what you’re going through, but I want you to know that I want you to be happy. So do whatever it takes to make yourself happy.”

    “You do?” I asked for reassurance. “You won’t judge me or mock me?”

    “No, no. Of course, I need to stop doing that when I’m in a bad mood. But I promise, kid, and I take back everything I’ve said to make you feel hurt.”

    “Really?”

    He nodded, and for the first time in my life, I gave my uncle a great big hug. I nearly started crying at that moment, but I was relieved to know that he supported my decision. I’m sure the rest of my family would approve of it, but for the longest time, I wanted reassurance from him specifically. And I earned it. 

    After supper was through and over with, I retreated back to my room and wrote about the good news in my journal to celebrate.

 

_     1st of December 1981 _

 

_     I finally came out to my family and I’m crying. It’s not because they disowned me, but because they will still love me for who I am. I may wear different clothes in the future or have long hair, but I know I’m still the same person. I’m especially glad that my uncle Dev approved of it. Never would I have thought in a million years he would be my biggest supporter, yet here we are! _

_     Uncle Dev told me he’ll bring in some new clothes for me later this week. They’re not necessarily brand new — they were previously worn by my late aunt Gita — but they’re new to me! And my mother said I could start growing out my hair, and when it gets to the length I want, we’ll go to the salon and get it styled. I feel like I’m the luckiest girl in the world! _

 

    Though I was fortunate to grow up with an accepting family, things outside of my house were a little . . . different. Well, let’s just say the administration at my previous school didn’t abide by my accommodations, and the kids at school would harass me every day. Luckily for me, I still had two friends at the school who would always walk with me to keep me safe. However, I was still bullied frequently and I would come home crying every so often. That’s when my mother figured that it was time for me to transfer to Hollyfield School in the fall of 1982.

    “They’ll still pick on me,” I said. “I just know it.”

    “Nah-uh,” my mother objected. “No one at that school has seen you around before, they’ll have no idea.”

    “Are you sure I’ll be safe?”

    “I’m sure, sweetie. You’re going to receive your first shot soon, so they’ll just think you hit puberty late.”

    “I guess.”

    Just when I thought I was going to face harassment at my new school on the first day of school, most of the new students didn’t notice my arrival. By the second day, however, they knew I was a new student when one of the teachers took the role before starting class. To this day, I’ll never forget him since he had a ridiculous surname: Mr Butt.

    “Quiet down, class!” he commanded the children, who were breaking out in laughter. “I said quiet! It’s time to get serious!”

    The class fell silent within a few seconds, but I heard some snickering in the back until it subsided. After that, Mr Butt looked down at the roster in his hands and called out the names of students in his class. Anxiety built up inside me; though it was an easy task to say “here,” I was afraid of exposing myself since my voice didn’t sound feminine enough. However, I didn’t want the teacher to mark me absent, so I had no choice and had to face one of my worst fears.

    “Let’s hope this is the right pronunciation,” he said, looking at my name. “Is Ira Korrapati here?”

    Hoping he would notice, I raised my hand up high in the air and waited. For a moment, he didn’t look up from his roster and I grew more worried. When I was about to put my hand down, he looked up at us and saw me raising my hand. 

    “Did I pronounce that correctly?” he inquired.

    I nodded my head and smiled; he was correct indeed, and I smiled at the fact that I was finally being called by my name outside of the house. Maybe the world wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. 

    Later in the year when I thought my voice was feminine enough to talk to others without fearing suspicion, I began to talk more and opened up to others and made a few friends eventually. Some people I thought that I was strange for a girl, but they preferred it that way. I always thought I was the most boring person to talk to, but I wasn’t like that according to my friend Lillian when we had this conversation at lunch.

    “You’re just really shy,” she reminded me. “But when you start talking, you can’t stop.”

    “Is that a bad thing?” I asked, tricking myself into thinking I annoyed people.

    “Oh, not for you! You’re really cool to hang out with!”

    “Really? You mean that?”

    “Yeah! Why would I lie?”

    Even though I missed my old friends back at my prior school, there was one thing I couldn’t stand about them: they would ignore me sometimes whenever I made them feel bored. I wasn’t so clear if I was a boring person or not, but sometimes they wouldn’t pay attention to me and it saddened me. It didn’t phase me at first, but when they repeated this behavior, I had it by the time I left my old school. For a few weeks into that summer, I felt depressed for leaving them. However, now reflecting back on it, I was glad that I made the right choice to switch schools.

    Just like I had predicted before, the bullying didn’t end at Hollyfield School. I was still teased about my physical appearance, but people started picking on me for being a quiet kid, though I was out of my shell by the time this happened. One or two boys threatened to fight me, but the headteacher busted them before they could ever try to start a brawl. I felt anxious every now and then, but for a few more months everything was completely fine. Everything was alright and I was alright . . . that was until I was walking home one afternoon in the middle of October back in ‘83.

    I was strolling down the sidewalk, walking home from the grocery store with a bag of groceries in my hands. Fifteen was the age where I was close to being sixteen, which in turn was being close to an adult. Though she warned me to be careful, my mother had sent me out earlier to pick up some groceries from the market. Since it was chilly that day, I wore leggings under my long skirt and had on a thick, long-sleeve shirt which was as black as my own hair. I wore a maroon scarf around my neck, since it matched the color of my skirt, and had my hair in a bun. My hair wasn’t as long as I wanted it to be since it grew slowly, but it was long enough to tie it in a little bun.

    When I came close to a crosswalk, I stopped walking before I could cross the road to see if any cars were approaching. I didn’t spot any, but the signal across the street still said to not cross. I didn’t want to be punished for coming home late, so I continued to walk down the sidewalk in hopes of finding a shortcut home. I was a little uncertain about this plan, but it was too late for me to turn back. Plus, I didn’t want to waste any more time waiting to cross the road. I turned and walked into an alley, one that I’ve walked through before. The atmosphere of the place always gave me the creeps but I never had any strange or horrible encounters, so I assumed that it was a safe place to walk through.

    I stopped for a minute to peek at the groceries inside my bag, checking to see if anything was spoiled. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary so I continued my trip. I knew I was close to reaching where I had to be, so I fastened my pace and speed walked. However, I felt a slight tug on my scarf and was frightened by the motion. I turned to see who it was tugging on it, but I saw no one.  _ “Probably a prankster or something,” _ I thought. But as soon as I turned back around, a punch was delivered to my face and I fell backward, sending the grocery bag flying toward the wall behind me. 

    “Fu-fuck!” I cursed, covering my face while I sat there trembling in pain. When I looked up, I couldn’t believe who was standing before me; it was three of my classmates from my old school. “What do you wa _ — _ ”

    “Shut the hell up, you bitch!” one of them yelled at me. “If you wanna be a woman, we’re gonna treat you like one!”

    Judging by his tone and language, I knew what they were going to do with me wasn’t going to be pretty. Forgetting about the groceries, I got up in a hurry and ran to the other side of the alley without trying to trip on my skirt. I heard the group of boys running after me, so I picked up the pace to try and outrun them. I was ahead of them for a second or so, but I kept running until a felt a rock struck my head. I fell forward, crossing my arms in front of me to cushion my face as I fell down. When I tried getting up off the ground, one of the boys kicked my head. I fell unconscious, not knowing what happened to me in the long run.

* * *

 

    When I finally woke up, I was nearly blinded by the fluorescent white lights above me. The room didn’t help at all since it was painted white as well. I couldn’t think for a moment, but I knew I wasn’t in the alley anymore. I was ready to fall back asleep, feeling too tired to think until I turned and saw some equipment next to me. When I closed my eyes, they widened when I realized where I was. 

    “This is the  _ — _ ” I was cut off when someone barged into the door, that someone being my uncle coming in with a tear-stained face. He ran up to me and embraced me in his arms, crying into my shoulder.

    “Oh, my dear Ira,” he sobbed. “I can’t believe those boys did this to you.”

    I didn’t bother to ask my uncle what happened; pain coursed through my body, especially in the lower region. I was overwhelmed with all sorts of emotions, but at the same time, I couldn’t feel anything. I never thought about this happening to me, but now I was too in shock to even process what just happened to me. 

    “I’m so sorry, Dev,” I finally broke down.

    “No, no, don’t say that!” he said, shaking me a bit as he faced me. “None of this is your fault, no matter what anyone else says.”

    “You . . . you promise?”

    “Yes! Listen, Ira. When you finish school, you have to leave London! I don’t care where you go, but this place isn’t safe for you. We both know this!”

    “But where will I go?” Not counting when I went to India to see family on a few occasions, I had never been anywhere else outside of the London area. I really had nowhere to go, but my uncle already had something up his sleeve.

    “When you finish school, go to Canterbury in Kent,” he informed me. “I know a man who will take you in. He’s a very good friend of mine.”

    “Who is he?” I asked.

    “I’ll tell you when the time comes. For now, I want you to stay strong. Can you do that?”

    “I will.”

    After I was discharged from the hospital a few days later, the boys were arrested. I never figured out what happened to them afterward, but I was glad to know that they would never be able to hurt me ever again. However, my uncle was right; I needed to get out of London as soon as I could because I was sure those boys weren’t the only ones that wanted to hurt me. Though it was a traumatic experience for me, I was very lucky to be alive. I could’ve been off worse _—_ possibly dead — if that were the case. And while no one at Hollyfield knew anything much about me, I know it wouldn’t be safe either if I came out.

    For nearly three years, I was constantly on edge in fear of being outed. Luckily, it never happened, but I never knew if the someone was going to snitch on me. Aside from my fears of being outed, I had recurring nightmares about the incident in the alley. Though I wasn’t conscious when it happened, I would have dreams about it where I was awake. All I could do in them was scream and try to kick them, but it would go on until I woke up crying in the middle of the night. Often at times, one of my parents, or my uncle, or even my older brother would have to come in and calm me down. I always felt stupid when crying, but I couldn’t help it. I was in pain.

    And then the day finally came. A few weeks after I had finished school, my uncle drove me to my new home in Canterbury. I was a little nervous during the travel, but I was excited to finally live a peaceful life, one that I dreamed of since that tragic day nearly three years before.

    “He’s a really nice man, Ira,” my uncle told me. “And he’s, um, kinda like you in a way.”

    “Really?” I asked curiously. 

    “Oh yes. And he’s told me about his experiences as a youth. I don’t really talk much about him though.”

    “Why? Do you guys not get along?”

    “No, it’s not that,” he shook his head. “He’s in the public eye kind of. He and his friends were at some festival and . . . I don’t remember what happened. He also attempted to kill himself nearly a decade ago.”

    “Is he okay now?!” I worried.

    “Yes, he’s much better now. He’s working on his first book and he’ll finish it very soon.”

    “Oh, that’s cool!”

    An hour later, we arrived at the place. The house was huge, but didn’t seem too fancy; I could already tell that whoever the man was, he was probably a simple man that kept to himself. As I got out of the car to get some of my stuff out of the trunk, I saw another car parked nearby and saw a guy getting his items from the trunk as well. Was he moving to this place as well? I couldn’t see his face, but he seemed tall and his hair was nice, long, and wavy, and the color of his hair matched mine. I wanted to introduce myself to him, but I decided not to and continued to unload the car. 

    When I got everything out of the car, my uncle took his time to say goodbye to me.

    “I know this is for the best,” he said, “but if you ever need to talk to me, here’s my phone number.” He dug into the front pocket of his pants and pulled out a slip of paper, which contained his number. I took it, storing it in my purse. After putting it away, I hugged my uncle and smiled.

    “Thank you so much, Dev,” I said.

    “Of course, Ira,” he replied, letting go of me afterward. “Do good when you get to university too. I don’t care what you study, just don’t be a slacker like your older brother.”

    “I will,” I promised, chuckling. “Well, I’ll see you later I guess.”

    “You too. Bye, Ira!”

    “Goodbye!”

    And with that, uncle Dev got into his car and drove away. I nearly broke into tears when I couldn’t see his car in the distance anymore, but I knew I was safe now. Today was the beginning of a new life, a new life where no one will dare to hurt me. Before I could go up to the front door, someone tapped on my shoulder and I turned. Nonetheless, it was the tall, long-hair man, carrying some of his stuff. 

    “Can you help me unload my car?” he asked, revealing his American accent. “I still have some stuff that I need to get out. Sorry for asking.”

    “Oh, no, it’s fine!” I reassured him. “Are you staying here too?”

    “Yeah. My mom made me, just in case the restraining order against my dad doesn’t work out.”   


    “Oh, I’m so sorry about that.”

    “It’s fine.”

    The conversation ended shortly after we went to fetch the rest of his stuff. I didn’t study his face much, but he was quite handsome. His appearance reminded me of how Freddie Mercury looked back in the seventies, except his cheekbones weren’t as sharp since his face was much softer. His nose was thin and pointy, and the color of his eyes was grey like the clouds. He didn’t seem lifeless or anything, but judging by the bags under his eyes, I could tell he was tired from his travels. He had pale skin as well, either from the lack of sunlight or he was sick with a cold.

    When we were done getting our stuff together, I rang the doorbell and waited for the man to welcome us. In the meantime, I made small talk with the long-haired man.

    “So what’s your name?” I questioned him. “I don’t think you told me.”

    “Oh that?” he said, looking surprised somewhat. “I thought I did. Sorry, my memory is shit.”

    “It’s alright, I figured I would introduce myself first. My name is Ira, and you are?”

    He looked away, hesitating to tell me for a second.

    “It’s Bona,” he revealed. 

    Right after he told me his name, the door opened to reveal the owner of the place. He was a bit older, his face possessing only a few wrinkles, and he had no grey strands standing out of his chestnut brown hair. It was cut short but he had side bangs covering a portion of his forehead and one of his bushy eyebrows. The most noticeable feature of his face was the long, pointy nose, and his cheekbones were similar to Bona’s. Finally, after remembering some of the news headlines from years ago and an old newspaper clipping, I immediately recognized him.

    “No way!” I gasped in surprise. 

    “It’s you!” Bona followed.

    “Yeah,” the man nodded, smiling at the both of us. “It’s me alright.” It was none other than Scott Marnon himself.


	22. Ocean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: mentions of drug use, pregnancy, and suicide.

    I reclined back into my seat as far back as I could, trying to get some shut-eye before the flight would take off. Even though I had dreamed about this journey for a long time now, I wasn’t ready for the lack of sleep or the endless gruesome hours of traveling. However, I wasn’t traveling to Europe alone. Sitting in the seat right next to me, Mel was there reading a book that she picked out for the trip. I forgot what the book was about, so I asked her what it was about.

    “This?” she said, pointing at a page within the book. “It’s Marnon’s book about the guy in Chicago that lead the cult.”

    “What was his name again?” I asked, rubbing my temple as I struggled to remember it. “I know that it happened while we were in middle school.”

    “Lee,” she brought her voice down to a whisper. “When I came to America when I was ten, I lived in Chicago with my family.”

    “Really?”

    “Yes.”

    “Did you ever saw him in real life?”

    Mel refrained from answering for a moment, unsure how to respond. I expected her to say no, that she never saw him in the flesh. However, she gave me an elaborate answer.

    “Many times,” she recalled. “My parents were members of his church and would take me and my older brother along. They fought a lot at the time, so they needed guidance of some kind.”

    “Did it help at all?” I questioned. “Did you like it?”

    Mel frowned a bit, thinking back to the events that happened over a decade ago.

    “It wasn’t a bad experience,” she admitted, “but I don’t think it was a good one either.”

    “What happened?”

    “ . . . It was scary overall to me. He said that if you didn’t worship Lamia, you would expect to die if it ever decided to come down to Earth. That shit always scared me, even though I wasn’t a believer. But I still went because of my parents and my older brother. I knew that Lee was a nice guy, but I just hated that place.”

    “How do ya know if he was nice?” I inquired. “Y’know how the man acted in church, right?”

    “That was his . . . public persona,” she said. “There were many times where my parents went out to eat and stuff, so they would leave me and my brother at his place. It sounds hard to believe, but he was a very quiet guy in private. It was actually kinda sad.”

    “How?”

    “He just . . . I dunno. He would write a lot in his diary and whenever he got upset, he would get his bong out and smoke.”

    “Right in front of ya?!” I nearly raised my voice but remembered that there were other people around. “Did your parents found out about it?”

    “Yeah, but they didn’t care,” Mel said, “because they would do it in front of me too. Lee didn’t do coke or anything else though if that’s what you’re wondering. I’ve seen worse though.”

    “Oh God, what?”

    Mel placed her bookmark on the page she left off at, closed the book, and stuck it back in her purse. She let out a long, exhausted sigh, rubbing her eyes and reclined back in her seat. I know she wanted to forget about it and hoped to be asleep for the entire flight, but I knew her story didn’t end there.

    “My parents dragged me and my brother to a New Years’ Eve party that Lee held back in ‘76,” she continued. “I’ve never seen so many people smoke weed in one room. Well, it wasn’t a room. It was at his secret club.”

    “I would’ve been panicking,” I said. “I don’t know why, but the smell makes me so nervous.”

    “It didn’t really phase me, but shit went down eventually. I went to the bathroom and had no idea what happened beforehand, but when I came out, Scott Marnon was beating the shit outta Lee.”

    “Nah-uh!” I shook my head. “You’re lying.”

    “I’m not!” she said. “I saw him leave after the fight and . . . man, I lost it when I saw Lee. I couldn’t believe that there was that much blood coming out of his nose. The party was canceled for the rest of the night because of the fight. And that wasn’t the only time he got beaten up.”

    “What did he do to get another beating?”

    Mel paused the story for a moment, sighing and rested the side of her head on her fist. She appeared to stare off into space, trying to calm herself down before she could bear to tell the gruesome details of the final story. I thought those memories didn’t bother her at all, but when she turned to me, her eyes were filled with melancholy. 

    “That day is one I’ll never forget,” she lamented. “When Lee lost the tennis match, he lost it all. His church, his life, his sanity — gone. He had a breakdown and shot Isaac, Scott’s friend. Some old woman started beating him up and Scott was screaming and cussing him out. Lee wanted to kill himself right there, but they didn’t let him.”

    “And what happened after that?” I pleaded, wanting Mel to finish the story.

    “He ran away when his ex-girlfriend told him she was pregnant with Isaac’s son. The police caught him though while Isaac was in the hospital. Isaac lived.”

    “Lee killed himself in prison, right?”

    “Yeah, he did. I haven’t seen him since that day in the park.”

    “Damn,” I cursed.

    We fell silent after the conversation was over, mostly because I had no interesting life story to tell that would be as crazy as that. The weirdest thing that ever happened to me was when I thought my dad’s house was haunted, but that was about it. Then, all of the sudden, I remembered an interesting conspiracy theory about the cult leader.

    “Y’know, there’s this theory that Lee faked his death and is living in a secluded area in Reneo,” I told Mel.

    “Shut up,” she snapped. However, I thought she was being sarcastic so I didn’t.

    “C’mon, you know it’s funny!”

    “No, it’s not. It just makes me paranoid.”

    “Wait, it does?”

    “Yeah, sorry. I’m not really into that. Shit like that makes me nervous.”

    “Oh . . . I’m sorry.”

    “It’s fine.”

    We stopped talking again for a moment but then continued when Mel changed the subject.

    “So what do you think you’ll do when we get to the UK, Ocean?” she asked.

    “I dunno,” I shrugged my shoulders. “Maybe punch Morrissey like I’ve always wanted to.”

    Mel let out a small cackle, trying to not burst out into laughter and disturb everyone on board. She was able to hold it in, but she was still grinning from ear to ear at my joke.

    “Of course you would!” she exclaimed. “That’s Ocean Gore for you!”

    It didn’t occur to me as much anymore, but I always forgot that I legally changed my name. I wasn’t very fond of my last name, so I decided on the last name Gore only for one reason: I had a huge crush on Martin Gore from Depeche Mode. Sounds crazy, I know, but I couldn’t think of a better last name for myself. Yet, I couldn’t remember why I named myself Ocean. My mind lost track for a moment and I was about to give up, but it suddenly came back to me. Oceans always seemed so calm and beautiful on the surface, but deep within them, there’s something mysterious about them. For as long as I could remember, I would compare myself to one, and the name was perfect. Ocean Evaline Gore  _ was _ perfect.

    And just like I predicted, Mel was out for most of the flight to London. While she was catching some Z’s, I pulled a book out from my bag and began reading it for the billionth time —  _ The Picture of Dorian Gray _ by Oscar Wilde. Even though I had memorized the entire plot of the novel, I would always come back to it because it was  _ that _ good of a novel.

* * *

 

    When we left the airport and were rushing to get our car rental, I accidentally bumped into a man with long, dark brown hair. I was only in England for not even an hour and already I was acting clumsy. I tried to apologize to the man, convincing him that I wasn’t one of those so-called lazy Americans. However, he only nodded and walked away to continue on with his business.

    “He looked so familiar,” Mel said. “But I can’t put my finger on it.”

    “Well, who was that?” I asked, trying to get her to remember.

    “He was in a band, but I can’t remember the name. Maybe it’ll come back to me.”

    We arrived at the car rental place just in time, stuffing our luggage into the trunk until there was no more room. With that, we placed the rest of our stuff in the back seats and we were ready to drive to our final destination: Canterbury in Kent. Mel drove us there while I looked out of the window, staring at the city life and the English countryside that followed for some time. On the way there, I finally wrote an entry in my new journal to keep a record of my travels in Europe.

 

_     07/11/1988 _

 

_     I’m Ocean Gore. This is all you need to know about me. _

 

  * __My birthday is 12/25/1964.__


  * _I’m from Cincinnati, OH._


  * _My favorite album is Black Celebration by Depeche Mode._


  * _Mel Bellani is my best friend and has been since my junior year of high school._


  * _I used to hate makeup, but now I love it. I can’t go a day without doing my eyebrows, or my eyeliner!_



 

_     I’m in England right now, and it’s late. Mel and I will have to stop at a hotel for the night to get some rest. We’ll be staying in Canterbury in Kent, England for a little while, I’m not sure for how long though. We have the address of the house we’re staying at, but we don’t know who else lives there. Either ‘cause it’s top secret or a surprise. I’ll have to wait and see. _

 

    Mel and I stopped at a small, ancient motel in the middle of nowhere, but it didn’t seem suspicious at all. Rather, the place was cozy and the old woman who owned the place was very sweet and polite to us. She worked there by herself and lived in a tiny cottage nearby.

    “Aren’t cha kinda lonely out here?” I asked her when Mel and I were about to leave the next morning.

    “It doesn’t botha me anymore,” she told us. “Life is too short to worry about that type o’ nonsense.”

    “Do you have any friends?” Mel inquired. “Certainly you can’t be that lonely.”

    “I did,” the woman replied, “but they all disappeared. One day, Evelyn was milkin’ the cows an’ by dawn, she disappeared into thin air just like that. An’ so did Eleanor, an’ Abigail, an’ Martha. Haven’t seen them all since.”

    “Oh, I’m so sorry about that,” I apologized. 

    “Don’t worry ‘bout that, dahling,” she said. “You betta get goin’ now before they catch ya too.”

    “What do you mean by that?” Mel worried. Instead, the old woman walked back into her office and we heard a lock click, indicating that we better get going. I was baffled by the warning, but I brushed it off and got into the car with Mel. 

    After an hour passed, we reached Canterbury at last. Even though the car trip was only an hour and a half long, driving for those thirty minutes last night felt like it took an eternity. However, we made it safe and sound to the city and continued driving to find the house we were staying at. Neither of us was familiar with the names of the streets, so it took us about another thirty minutes to find the place we were looking for. Finally, we pulled up to a large but simple-looking house within the suburbs of the city. There was another car parked in the driveway, possibly belonging to the owner. 

    Once I got out of the car, I popped the trunk open and grabbed one of my suitcases, wiggling it side to side to pull it out of its tight, compact space. I pulled it out successfully without sending the rest of the luggage flying, which was not how I wanted to start out the trip. When I grabbed another bag, I began to walk up to the house and saw that a woman opened the door. She stood there in the doorway, wearing a night robe while her short black bob was down, complementing her golden brown skin. 

    “Do you two need some help?” she called to us.

    “We got it!” Mel said cheerfully. “Thank you for asking! Do you own the place?”

    “No, but I do live here.”

    “Oh, okay!”

    After I got the last bag, I slammed the trunk closed and locked the car doors. Before I went inside, I stopped by to have a chat with the woman. 

    “So how long have you lived at this place?” I questioned.

    “It’s been two years,” she replied. “My boyfriend and I live here.”

    “Is he British too?”

    “No, he told me he was born in California, but he’s quite pale because his mother was from Iran.”

    “Oh, interesting. And were you born here in the UK?”

    “My older brother and I were born and raised in London. My brother still lives there, and so do my parents and my uncle. The rest of my family still live in India.”

    “Ohh.”

    When I got my last bag into the room I was staying in, I walked into Mel’s room and asked if she got everything out of the car. She said yes and I stuffed the key back into my purse. Just when I thought it was close to noon, I looked at the clock on my nightstand that read that it was only 8:31 AM. I wondered if anyone else in the house was up, besides the Indian woman. Realizing I didn’t get her name, I left my room and found her sitting on the couch in the living room, watching whatever TV program was on. 

    “What was your name, miss?” I inquired. “I forgot to ask.”

    “Ira,” she stated, turning her head. “And did that other girl said your name was Ocean?”

    “Yeah, Ocean Gore” I nodded, sitting down next to her. “And my friend’s name is Mel Bellani.”

    “Almost like Mel Bush!”

    “Who’s that?”

    “Oh, she’s a character from Doctor Who.” 

    “I’ve never heard of it.”

    “Well,” she said, “I figured, and it’s not as popular as it used to be.”

    I sat there and watched the show for a few minutes, not understanding what was going on but it was entertaining somewhat. Even for a sci-fi show, it was interesting to me. However, I got up and went back to my room, remembering that I had to unpack my bags. I only packed what I needed for the trip, but when I was halfway through with unpacking I gave up and went to the kitchen to grab something to eat. Though there was a lot to choose from, I couldn’t think of what to make until I opened the fridge and found a few eggs. I grabbed those and made scrambled eggs out of them, and toasted some bread in the toaster while I was at it. When I finished cooking my eggs, I turned the coffee maker on and started making a full pot of coffee. However, when I searched the kitchen for some creamer, I found nothing but a bag of sugar.

    “Who the hell in this house drinks black coffee?!” I hollered.

    Right after I said that I saw a man walk downstairs and came up to the coffee maker, grabbing a mug to pour himself a steaming hot cup of plain, black coffee. He appeared to be exhausted but was wide awake when he started talking to me.

    “Kinda ironic, don’t ya think?” he asked. “You’re a goth that hates black coffee.”

    “Well, I have a soul,” I joked. 

    He chuckled and spooned himself a bit of sugar to pour into his mug. This man seemed  _ so _ familiar, yet nothing clicked. Maybe he’s just a celebrity lookalike, but I still wasn’t sure. 

    When I picked up my plate of eggs, I moved to the dining table nearby and sat there to eat. My eggs didn’t turn out as good as I wanted them to be, but since I used a different type of pan, they came out different. Plus, there was a low supply of salt so I had to save some for everyone else to use. While I chowed down on my eggs, the man joined me and sat at the dining table, holding both a newspaper and a small container of yogurt in the other hand. It didn’t bother me at all, but when I noticed how slim he was, I raised an eyebrow.

    “Ya think a thing of yogurt is enough?” I asked.

    “I would’ve made some eggs,” he said, “but someone had to cook ‘em all.”

    “Hey, I love eggs.”

    “Same hat.”

    When he laid the newspaper down on the table, my eyes glanced over the main news story, which was written with an enormous and eerie-looking font.

 

**TWO MORE LONDONERS VANISH WITHOUT A TRACE**

 

    I didn’t bother to read the rest of the story, but I concluded that those people met the same fates as the old woman’s friends. 

    “It’s pretty strange that it’s only happening in this country,” the man remarked, “and the victims are usually women.”

    “How long has this been going on for?” I inquired, curious about the mystery.

    “Um . . . for about four months now. I’ve gotten used to it, but I’m always worried about Ira, even though she doesn’t go out alone that often.”

    “I can’t even imagine such a thing,” I said. “I mean, back at home I would have my keys out whenever I would go somewhere because I’m scared a man will try to hurt me.”

    “Yeah,” he replied. “It’s gotten much worse over here though. I wouldn’t suggest staying here for long, not to scare you away or anything.”

    “I won’t. Besides, my friend Mel and I will visit all the other countries in Europe.”

    “That sounds exciting.”

    “It is!”

    When I finished eating, I got up and went to the sink to clean up the dishes. There wasn’t much to clean, thankfully, so I got it done and over with in under five minutes. Using a rag that was nearby, I wiped my hands and left it on the counter since I wasn’t sure where to put it. I looked around the kitchen for a minute, admiring the decorations and silverware that were hanging on the walls. There wasn’t much to see, but it was simple and made me feel like I was at home again already.

    “Oh, I forgot to introduce myself,” the man remembered, getting up to fetch some more coffee. “I’m —”

    “I have got to be dreaming!” Mel gasped, looking at the man with a bewildered expression while clutching her fingers into her hair. “Is that  _ really _ Scott Marnon?!”

    “Yup,” Scott nodded, smiling afterward. “It’s me alright. I’m surprised you didn’t notice this portrait up here.” He pointed to a framed picture that was hanged up on the wall closest to the dining table. Mel and I turned our heads and noticed that the photo was in color, and consisted of Scott and two friends of his. I assumed it was the seventies when the photo was taken, judging by the hair and clothing; in it, Scott had a big smile on his face and had his arms resting on his friends’ shoulders. They were smiling as well, while the Asian woman appeared to be laughing. 

    “That’s Isaac and Jeong, right?” Mel asked enthusiastically.

    “You’re right,” he said. “I’m still very good friends with both of them. They live in Chicago and have a son named Carlos. He likes to come see me every summer and winter break, whenever he can. I love him, he’s like a son to me!”

    “Awh, that’s cute!”

    I left Mel and Scott alone and walked back to the living room, where Ira still sat on the couch. However, instead of watching TV, she was reading Stephen King’s  _ The Shining _ . 

    “You like King?” I asked, sitting down.

    “I think his stories are interesting,” she opined. “I’m not into horror honestly, but it gives me something to do while I wait for my boyfriend to wake up.”

    “He’s not up yet?”

    “Probably won’t be for a few hours,” she sighed, tilting her reading glasses. “His insomnia is at its worst. He didn’t go to bed until six o’clock this morning.”

    “Damn, I’m sorry about that.”

    “It’s cool. He’s dealt with this before and he’ll be able to fix his sleep schedule. On the bright side, we’re going to get a refill for his antipsychotics today.”

    “What does he take them for?”

    Before Ira could answer that question, I heard a door open down the hallway and heard footsteps. When I turned my head to see who it was, it was obvious to tell that it was Ira’s boyfriend; his skin had a pale complexion with a slight peach undertone, but the dark circles under his eyes were quite noticeable. And his hair was in a knotted mess, but it was hard to tell at first since his hair was pretty dark. All that he wore was a grey pair of pajama bottoms and a plain white tank top. Though he was extremely exhausted, he didn’t seem bothered by anything this morning. 

    Right away, Ira scooted a bit so that her boyfriend could sit next to her. I stayed in my place since the couch was big enough for all three of us. 

    “Can’t go back to sleep?” Ira asked her boyfriend, who was resting his head on her shoulder.

    “Nah,” he yawned. “My medication is shit. I’ll need to tell the psychiatrist that when I go see her today.”

    “Alrighty. Do you wanna try and go back to sleep again?”

    He didn’t respond for a minute, staring at the TV screen while it was playing another episode of Doctor Who. By the time Mel went back to her room to fetch her book for Scott to sign, Ira’s boyfriend finally had an answer.

    “I’ll try,” he sighed. “I just hope my nightmares aren’t too vivid this time.”

    “I hope so too,” Ira said, kissing her boyfriend on the cheek. “Love you, Bona.”

    “You too.” After that conversation ended, he got up and walked down the hallway, shutting the door and locking it right when he got to his room. Even though I only got to know the guy for a minute, I already felt bad for him. He seemed to give off this weird energy of some sort; it wasn’t suspicious or anything, but something told me that something terrible happened to him in the past. Whether it was extreme or not, he seemed to not be handling it that well and even stated that he still had nightmares.

    “Is he okay?” I inquired, my face full of worry.

    From the looks of it, I know that Ira had all the answers, yet she wasn’t sure if she wanted to tell me without his word.

    “I don’t wanna talk about it,” she murmured. “It’s too personal.”

    “I understand,” I said, “but I hope he gets well soon.”

    “Thanks. I think he’ll appreciate it.”


	23. Bona

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: implied abuse and murder, and mention of death.

    When I woke up, I found myself in a bed that wasn’t mine, and I didn’t recognize the decorations or interior of my bedroom. The walls were painted green, but they were mostly covered up by the massive amount of posters that were taped to them. Everywhere I looked, all that I saw was Prince, Sade, a couple of jazz bands, and Japanese musicians that no one has even heard of. None of these posters were in my bedroom, but suddenly it all came back to me: this was my room back in California, specifically when I lived in San Dimas. 

    I should’ve been panicking and question why I woke up in my old room, but instead, I felt confused. I sighed, rubbing my eyes and then trailed my hands down my face to stretch it.

    “Dammit,” I muttered. “Is this for real?”

    I left my room and walked to my living room, assuming that nothing had changed. However, when I walked into the room all the furniture was gone, but in one corner of the room there stood a miniature TV that sat on a coffee table. None of the usual programs were airing, and instead, it was showing the black and white static that irritated the shit outta me. I covered my ears up and looked away from the screen, walking straight into the kitchen.

    The kitchen was the same one that I remembered back in California. The titles were still in pristine condition, and the yellow and white tiles were as bright as the sunlight that was flooding in through the sliding glass doors. The fridge, oven, stove, microwave, and other kitchen appliances were all pearl white like I had remembered. I smiled for a second, but then remembered something else: this wasn’t my old kitchen, and it wasn’t spotless either. 

    I ran outside to my backyard in hopes of escaping whatever this was, but as soon as I stepped outside, I ran into my dad who I haven’t seen since I was fifteen. I would’ve been scared seeing his face, but for some reason, I felt nothing and froze up in my tracks right away. 

    “Alice, what are you doing here?” he questioned, addressing me by my dead name. 

    “Well, what are ya doin’ here you sunnava bitch?” I nearly raised my voice. I expected him to backhand me like he used to do, but the old bastard just stood there grinning like an idiot.

    “I just wanted to visit and see how you and your mother are doing.”

    “Nah-uh! She still has that restraining order on ya! You’re not even supposed to be near me so I’m gonna call the cops on your ass right now!”

    “Tell your mother I said hi while you’re at it.”

    I didn’t say another word to him and ran back into the house. When I thought the terror was over, I heard a loud bang against the wall and was startled. I saw nothing in the kitchen and the noise was too close, so I knew that it wasn’t coming from my room. Running back into the living room, I looked around and saw that the furniture was all back and didn’t hear the static noise anymore. However, when I turned to the TV and watched the screen closely, the scene left me petrified. Behind the low-quality TV screen, my mom laid there on the floor in a heavy pool of blood. I couldn’t tell what went on, but it sent me into a fit of hysteria. My episode didn’t last for long and before I knew it, I woke up screaming in my actual bed.

    Right away, Ira barged into my room to see what was wrong. Even though it was only a nightmare, I started crying after I stopped screaming because it felt so real. I even picked up the phone to call my mom to make sure she was safe back in California, just to be sure that my dad didn’t harm her in any way.

    “Hello? Who is this?” my mom asked, sounding irritated.

    “Hey, mom,” I greeted her. “It’s just me. Are you okay?”

    “I was until now,” she told me. “I was sleeping, Bona! It’s nearly midnight here.”

    “Sorry. I had another nightmare about dad and I had to make sure you were okay.”

    “Oh, I’ll definitely be okay now. Your grandma called me this morning to let me know that he had a heart attack.”

    “Wait,” I paused for a moment. “So he’s . . .”

    “Yeah,” my mom confirmed before I could finish my sentence. “Good riddance to that, right?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Well, I have work in the morning so I gotta go back to sleep, kid. See ya later.”

    “G’night, mom.”

    I hung up the phone and let out a big sigh of relief, thankful to receive good news for once. Though my life was still far from perfect, the news of my dad’s passing lifted some weight off my shoulders. Even after I left California, he left me worried and I was paranoid that he knew where I lived and would come and hurt me someday. But since he was dead now, I wouldn’t have to worry about it as much.

    “Are you okay now?” Ira asked when she came back to my room with a plate of eggs.

    “Yeah,” I nodded. “I called Mom and asked her if she was fine.”

    “Well, is she okay?”

    “Oh, definitely. She told me that my dad finally kicked the bucket, so I’m sure she’s gonna pop a bottle back home or something.”

    “I wouldn’t doubt it,” said Ira, who was sitting on the edge of my bed now. “After what you told me what he put you two through, I believed that man deserved death. Uh, sorry if that sounded harsh.”

    “Nah, it’s fine. Believe me, since that day in court I never wanted to see his face again. I was glad that my mom got to file a restraining order, but I wish the judge would’ve thrown the fucker in jail.”

    “Well, at least what you got was better than nothing,” Ira reminded me. “You and your mom were lucky.”

    “My mom was the lucky one,” I sighed, realizing something as I ate my eggs. “I guess it doesn’t matter if my dad is dead or alive. He’ll always haunt me, whether in my dreams or when my delusions and hallucinations act up.”

    Ira reached out and hugged me tightly while I put my eggs aside. I hugged her back, but I couldn’t budge a smile somehow.

    “You’ll be okay,” she tried to reassure me. “As long as you have me and Scottie, I promise he won’t lay a hand on you.”

    I didn’t know what to say for a second, but I hugged her for even longer until I could give her a proper response.

    “Thank you,” I said. “I love you.”

    “I love you too!” she said, parting away from me. “Do you wanna come walk me to work now?”

    “Yeah, sure! Just gimme a minute to get ready.”

    Ira got up off the bed and left my room, closing the door behind her to grant me my privacy. Before I could strip off my pajamas, I peered down at my alarm clock to see what time it was. It was eight o’clock and I went to bed at one last night, so I got seven hours of sleep in total. To other people, that wasn’t enough, but to me those extra hours of sleep were heavenly. I usually got five hours of sleep, six if I was lucky. If I got my meds for my insomnia two weeks ago like I should’ve, I would have been sleeping like a baby by now. But of course, my psychiatrist needed the extra time to figure out how to balance out my medication.

    I opened my closet door, revealing shirts and pants that were resting on hangers while the rest of my clothes were in the drawer. I owned the biggest closet in the house, so I took advantage of the space that came with it. Browsing through the row of shirts, I kept searching until I came across a white t-shirt that consisted of some white palms trees on a black background. With it, there was a tangerine-like sunset and beside the sunset, there was the name of a city written in a bold, black font. It in all caps it read “DAYTONA BEACH, FLORIDA.” I smiled, remembering the Florida trip I went on years ago. Though I forgot most details of the trip, I thought the shirt was a nice souvenir to treasure.

    After I slipped the Daytona Beach shirt off its hanger, I grabbed a pair of black skinny jeans and a pair of matching combat boots to go with my outfit. I got dressed in a hurry, got done brushing my teeth in under a minute, and brushed my hair as quickly as possible. I tried to be gentle when I was untangling a knot, but I ran the hairbrush through it like hell and it nearly drove me to tears. After a couple more brushes, my hair was finally untangled and it felt smooth and silky like usual. When I was done with that, I threw my brush down on my nightstand and slipped my socks and boots on, tucking my jeans into them. And with that, I was ready to go.

    Right when I left my room, I met up with Ira who stood there patiently by the door.

    “That was quick,” she said. “So you’re ready?”

    “Yeah,” I nodded. “Ready when you are.”

    “Alright, let’s go then.” She turned her head momentarily, looking at Scott while he stood there making his coffee. “Bona’s walking me to work, Scottie!”

    “See you later!” he hollered. “Both of you be careful!”

    “We will!” I promised, opening the door for Ira as we started heading out. After closing the door, I started running for a quick second to catch up to Ira, making sure that I was right by her side as we began our day trip to the local market. Even though her workplace was about a mile near the house, Scott and I constantly worried about Ira’s safety. 

    We’ve always been like this since she told us about the incident, but with the number of women that have been disappearing in the area recently, I’ve been extra cautious whenever we went out. Ironically, as we were passing by a park, we spotted a paper taped to a pole nearby. On it, there was a picture of a young white woman, smiling and wearing a black tank top and some jeans shorts. Below it, there was a description of her written in bold.

 

**HAVE YOU SEEN ME?**

 

**JENNY WITHERS**

 

**Age:** 21  **DOB:** 11/03/1966  **Height:** 5’7”  **Weight:** 156 lbs

**Hair:** Red, curly.  **Eye colour:** blue.

 

_ Jenny was last seen walking through Beverly Meadow on Monday, August 1. She was last seen wearing a bright yellow windbreaker jacket with black jeans and black tennis shoes. If you have any information on Jenny’s whereabouts, please contact the Canterbury Police Station at  _ **_(44) 1622 690690._ **

 

    “Oh dear,” Ira mumbled. “That’s the third one this week.”

    “Third?” I turned my head with wide eyes. “Who were the other two?”

    “Well . . . I don’t remember the first one, but the second one was an old woman who owned a motel in the middle of nowhere.”

    “So it’s not just young women disappearing then?”  
Ira shook her head. “No, and now that I’m thinking about it, the first person who disappeared earlier this week was a young man.”

    “But most of the victims are young, right?” I assumed.

    “Yeah, seems like it.”

    The conversation dropped afterward when I couldn’t change the subject. Even though I tried my best to forget about the phenomena, I couldn’t help but frown at the thought of waking up one day to find Ira gone. There was a chance that Scott could disappear as well, but my girlfriend was twice as likely to vanish. Then, I thought about the chances of me disappearing. Though the chances of me disappearing were slim, I felt paranoid and my thoughts got out of control. Fortunately, I contained them, but they were still nagging me at the back of my mind. 

    Once we started to approach the market, I glared at the front window of the building and spotted a “help wanted” sign in the corner of the window. While I wasn’t given an explanation yet, I already knew the story behind the sign. 

    “You came just in time, Ira,” the manager announced, walking out of the building. “How are you and Bona doing this morning?”

    “Oh, we’re fine,” Ira said, laughing nervously when she noticed the sign. “Did someone quit again?”

    “I wish that were the case. Donna disappeared this morning apparently.”

    “Wait,” I interrupted. “Ira, is Kyle talking about  _ our _ Donna? Our neighbor from across the street?”

    “I’m afraid so,” she lamented. “I honestly don’t know how to feel about this.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “I know what you mean, Ira,” Kyle said, resting his right hand on his hip. “These disappearances have become so common that it just doesn’t phase me anymore.”

    “But aren’t you scared?” I said with a worried look on my face.

    “For you and Ira? Of course, but am I scared? I don’t care what happens to me.”

    Kyle looked up at morning sky, watching an airplane soar through the clouds as it was preparing to land at its final destination. He observed the path it left behind for a minute before he went ahead and walked back into the market. He called for Ira, which queued that it was time for her shift. 

    “See you later,” she waved goodbye. “Please be careful while walking back.”

    “I will,” I promised her. “I love you.”

    “Love you, too!”

    Right when she walked into the building, I turned away and began my trip back to the house. As I was walking back, I was left all alone with my paranoid thoughts which were slowly invading my mind again. I tried concentrating on the scenery, but I couldn’t help but feel a pit of despair grow in my heart. I was afraid that it could happen to me one day, at any time and at any place. Even right now, I knew that I wasn’t safe so I started walking faster and eventually, I picked up the pace and started running when I returned to the neighborhood. 

    Just as I expected, when I turned around I saw nothing behind me. I knew that my condition was acting up again, but I feared for my life and was frightened by my own thoughts. As soon as I got back to the house, I slammed the door shut and accidentally startled Scott while he was washing the dishes.

    “Is everything alright?” he worried. I wasn’t sure what to say since my thoughts were all over the place, but I knew that I was overreacting like usual. For another moment, I stood there and leaned against the door as if I were preventing someone from barging in.

    “Ye . . . Yeah,” I stuttered. “I’m just scared.”

    “I understand. Those thoughts are getting to you again, aren’t they?”

    Though he still couldn’t totally understand what went on inside my head, I know what he meant. Years and years earlier, and even every now and then, I was aware that Scott suffered from these intrusive, paranoid thoughts. I know that his suffering wasn’t as severe, but he still understood my struggle. You know what they say: a person who drowned in four feet of water still died that same way as a person who drowned in twelve feet.

    After he said that, I nodded and walked into the kitchen towards the medicine cabinet to grab a small bottle of pills. I came home just in time for me to take my meds, so I didn’t waste a minute when I took them. When I was through with taking my pills, I told Scott about what I saw on my trip to the market.

    “There was a poster taped to a pole on my way there,” I began. “It was a missing persons’ poster.”

    “Let me guess, someone disappeared again?” he guessed.

    “Yeah, yeah. So did Donna.”

    “She’s gone too?”

    “Yup.”

    “Well, damn. That’s . . . four people this week?”

    “In this area, yeah.”

    Scott let out an exhausted sigh. Though this only has been going on for a few months now, it feels like it’s been years since there was any peace in this country. Well, there’s never been any peace whatsoever, but all we wanted was the panic to die down and hopefully find the victims. Maybe it’s all a secret trend that none of us were aware of, where people ditched their lives to live in caves or in the woods or deep within the countryside to form a new utopian society. Maybe they were tired and fed up with their normal lives and decided that society needed to go fuck itself. I tried explaining this theory to Scott, but I failed to convince him.

    “That’s impossible,” he said, placing the last dish into the basket of the dishwasher. “The police have said they just vanish within seconds. And besides, if they did they would at least bring some belongings with them.”

    “But what if though?” I questioned him. “I’m not saying you should agree with me, but like what if?”

    “I still can’t see it.”

    “Okay, but what if they all ran away because of Thatcher?”

    Scott snickered at my comment and then let out a small genuine laugh, smiling.

    “Okay, I can agree your point now,” he added as he closed the dishwasher and pushed a button to start it up. “That bitch drives me crazy.”

    “I don’t think anyone in this house can stand her,” I said with a smirk. When I was thinking about all who lived in this house again, I remembered that I didn’t see Ocean and Mel when I came inside. “Speaking of people, where are those two?”

    “You mean Ocean and Mel? They went to go get breakfast, but they’ll be back soon.”

    “Are they bringing us some too?”

    “I think so.”

    Scott retreated to his office to work on a book of his while I went back to my room to distract myself. I gathered my hair into my fist and tied it up in a bun, then whipped out my sketchbook and opened up to the last page that I was drawing on. The last thing that I drew was from four days ago and it was an unfinished sketch of a bust of George Michael. Though I didn’t feel like finishing it, I was satisfied with the final details of the drawing. I moved on and started sketching out the base for a picture I had in mind. Usually, I would try and use a reference whenever I was drawing people or objects or backgrounds of any sort. But this time, I decided to draw whatever popped into my mind. 

    Nearly two hours passed and I filled up at least four pages in my sketchbook; each page consisted of surrealist-like doodles and faces that expressed certain emotions, with some scribbles here and there. For the first few minutes, I drew without any noise distracting me from my task, but I grew bored and eventually, I felt uncomfortable being in a quiet environment. So, after sitting around in silence, I got up and put a jazz album on my record player and turned the volume down a bit. It was quiet, but it brought a bit of character into my room and the music fueled the inspiration for some of my drawings. Until the needle swayed away from the last track of the record, all I did was draw and draw.

    When it was finished, I placed the album back into its sleeve and placed it back where it was in my collection of records. That’s when I heard people enter the house, leading me to leave my room to see who it was. I expected it to be some guests or one of Scott’s co-workers, but then I saw Ocean and Mel setting down the two carry out boxes on the dining room table. That’s when I remembered that they went out earlier to go get breakfast.

    “Oh, hey, you’re back,” I said when I walked into the dining room. “Whatcha got there?”

    “Oh, nothing much really,” Ocean sighed. “We just have eggs and pancakes.”

    “Yeah,” Mel followed. “We had a box of sausages but some guy accidentally bumped into me and I spilled it . . .”

    “Oh, it’ll be okay,” I reassured her. “Ira and I will share the leftovers and Scott can have whatever he wants.”

    “No, no, I don’t need that much,” Scottie said, walking up to the table to see how much eggs there were. When he opened up one box, there was an enormous pile of scrambled eggs just sitting there, waiting to be eaten as steam emerged from it. “Yeah, you need this more than I do.”

    “It’s fine,” I said. 

    “Have you looked into a mirror lately? You’re a walking stick, young man.”

    “It’s not that bad, I promise.”

    “Still, you need to put on some more weight, especially for your height.”

    I said nothing back to Scott as I opened one of the upper cabinets to grab a plate. However, I took his advice and scooped up more eggs than usual and ended up covering over half of my plate with eggs. And of course, I took all of the pancakes I could get and scarfed those down within minutes. 

    The rest of the day was laid back and it flew by before I knew it. Scott and I worked on our tasks as usual while Ocean and Mel went out again to walk around the city for fun. Though they were on a business trip, they both thought of it as a vacation. I haven’t really gotten the chance to have an elaborate conversation with either of them, but they seemed like they were really nice people, especially Mel with how approachable and outgoing she was. For some weird reason, Scott thought I had a grudge against Ocean since I didn’t talk to them that much. Eventually, when I went out later to go pick up Ira, she practically asked me the same question.

    “Does Ocean intimidate you?”

    “No?” I replied with a puzzled expression. “Why’d you ask that?”

    “I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you talk to them that much.”

    “Oh, that?” I paused for a second to let Ira grab her purse before we started walking. When we began our trip back, I resumed. “I’m just — You know how I am. I’m just the typical weird ass artist that only has like two friends.”

    “So you don’t like them?”

    I sighed, realizing that my point didn’t come across.

    “Uhh, that’s not what I meant,” I apologized, feeling embarrassed. “I don’t know, I’m not really social. I mean I try — I really do — but I feel like I come off as awkward. I don’t feel like people are really interested in me.”

    “Oh,” Ira said, “I know what you mean now. I feel like that sometimes too, but I don’t come off as boring to you, right?”

    “Oh, hell no! You’re totally the nicest person to be with. I mean that’s why we’re dating, right?”

    “Definitely! And the others think you’re cool, I can promise you that. Ocean’s just as quiet as you sometimes.”

    I thought back to the times I’ve been around Ocean and Ira was completely right about that. Ocean and I never held a solid conversation together, but that’s because they really were awkward. I didn’t mean to say that to be insulting, but that’s how we were alike. I let out a big sigh of relief, glad to know that my friends didn’t think I hated them for no apparent reason.

    When we got back to the place and opened the front door, I turned my head toward the kitchen saw that Scott was in the middle of making dinner while Ocean was helping him out.

    “Hey, we’re back!” I greeted them, letting Ira walk into the house before me.

    “Oh, hi!” Scott waved back to us. “How was work, Ira?”

    “Same as usual,” she replied. “I made some more money since I stayed and helped out for another hour.”

    “That sounds great! And Bona, can you come here and wait for the oven to beep while I do some work real quick?”

    “Yeah, yeah,” I nodded, rushing to the kitchen. “Go ahead, man. I’ll take care of it now.”

    “Thanks, I owe you!”

    And with that, Scott left the kitchen in a hurry and I stood there alone with Ocean, who was finishing up the mashed potatoes. Once again, I was too shy to ignite the conversation, but luckily they noticed me and said hi.

    “Oh, uh hey,” I mumbled. “So how was your day?”

    “It was good actually,” they said, squishing down the last big chunks of potato with a big spoon. “First good day I’ve had in a few weeks.”

    “Oh, uh, same here actually. I mean, I was kinda out of it this morning but I got to relax for once.”

    “I know what you mean.”

    I paused for a minute to think about what Ocean just said to me. I couldn’t come to a definite conclusion, but I didn’t hesitate to ask them about it.

    “You do?”

    “Yeah, of course,” they nodded, setting the spoon aside. “Well, I know I don’t have the same condition as you, but I can totally understand the struggle.”

    “Oh, yeah definitely. And when you’re struggling, getting through the day is quite challenging.”

    “Mhm . . .”

    Ocean left their sentence trailing for a moment, stirring the mashed potatoes up a little more before they were finished. They left the spoon in the bowl while they leaned back against the counter while talking to me.

    “Can you offer me some advice?” they asked, sounding somewhat desperate. “I don’t mean to change the subject, but I really need some help.”

    “Um . . . sure,” I replied. “What do you need?”

    “Well . . . you see, there’s this girl that I like. She’s really nice and funny and she’s kinda like the daring type. She’s willing to take risks for her friends and she’ll fight for whatever’s right. She’s tough and all and doesn’t let no one mess with her, but she’s one of the sweetest girls I ever know.”

    Ocean paused to catch their breath, but I could figure out already who they were talking about. That girl was . . . 

    “I love Mel,” they confessed. “She’s a wonderful girl and I don’t know where I would be without her. I wanna tell her that I love her, but I’m afraid that I’ll ruin our friendship. So like, what should I do?”

    I tried to think hard about it, but the advice I gave them was only plain and simple.

    “Well, uh,” I mumbled, not sure if this was gonna work out. “Just tell her I guess. I mean, I was kinda the same way with Ira.”

    “He’s right about that,” Ira said, walking into our conversation. “And I was too, but I didn’t like him back at first.”

    “You didn’t?” Ocean questioned. 

    “Not at all,” she shook her head, crossing her arms now. “It wasn’t that I hated him or anything, I didn’t know him that well then. And I wasn’t sure if I was ready for a relationship.”

    “But it all worked out, right?”

    “Yup, we started talking more and more and well, here we are!” Ira turned to me and gave me a smile; I blushed a bit and walked up to her to give her a smooch on the cheek. I couldn’t help but smile and hugged her in return.

    “Well, I’m glad for you two!” they congratulated us. “I just hope it works for me.”

    “Oh, I think it will!” I said with confidence, resting my arm on Ira’s shoulders. “You guys have been friends forever now, right? She might think the same way, you never know.”

    “Oh yeah . . . yeah, that totally makes sense now come to think of it!”

    Right after they said that the oven started beeping and I grabbed some potholders to get the steak out. After setting it on top of the stove, I turned the oven off and told Ira to go tell Scott that the food was done. When she was dismissed, I finally noticed that something was up.

    “Wait, where is Mel?” I asked Ocean, feeling concerned somewhat.

    “Oh, she went out for a jog,” they told me. “She does this every night before dinner.”

    “Why at night though? Isn’t that kinda dangerous?”

    “I told her that once but she just shrugged it off. She doesn’t really care, and nothing has happened to her so she’s alright I guess.”

    “Do you know when she’ll be back?”

    “Umm . . . maybe in five minutes? She only goes out for an hour.”

    The conversation dropped when Scott came into the kitchen to grab the bowl of potato salad out of the fridge. When he set that bowl down on the kitchen counter, all of us grabbed a plate, got all the food we were eating, and sat down at the dining room table. We usually don’t eat together that often since we all ate at different times, but since today was the anniversary of the match, Scott thought he needed company. It wasn’t a day of mourning or anything, but he needed someone to tell his side of the story. Though it was kinda long, I thought it was interesting from his perspective.

    “And then when he shot Isaac . . .” he continued. “God, I thought I was gonna lose it. I took it so well but man, I really thought he was gonna die back then.”

    “Is that why you kissed him?” Ocean asked with curiosity. 

    “Yeah. I loved him in that sense, so I took up that opportunity.”

    While Ocean said that Mel would be back within five minutes, we were halfway through dinner and twenty minutes have passed since then. I didn’t know if I was overreacting like usual, but I suspected that something wasn’t right. When I peered through the window, I saw that it had grew dark outside and the pit of worry in my stomach flourished. I ignored this feeling, trying to eat the rest of the potato salad that sat on my plate. However, Ira noticed the worried look I had on my face.

    “Is something wrong, dear?” she questioned me. 

    “Are you talking to me?” I said, pointing at myself with the fork in my hand.

    She nodded in response.

    “Oh, uh, I just don’t like potato salad,” I lied.

    “Oh, c’mon now,” Scott groaned. “You gotta be kidding me. This is the same potato you’ve been eating for the past two years.”

    “Yeah but . . . I don’t know, it tastes weird this time.”

    Not sure if I was telling the truth or not, Scott took his fork and dug a piece out of the salad to test my theory. However, before he ate it, he heard a piece of mail drop to the floor. I turned around and saw that it came through the mail slot on the door, but it didn’t came like any other piece of mail that we had before. Usually, the person delivering our mail would drop it all of in the morning and only on the weekdays. Why were we getting mail on a Saturday night?

    Scott put his fork down on his plate and got up to see what it was. When I looked at it again, it was only an envelope that Scott picked up off the floor. He looked at it for a quick second before declaring who it was for.

    “It’s for you Ocean,” he said, walking back to the table to hand it over to them. They seemed as puzzled as I was while we looked at it, but their face was filled with more worry than confusion.

    Without wasting another minute, Ocean tore the envelope open and pulled out a letter. It appeared to be wrinkled and it was splattered with tea stains, but as they were reading the letter the concern on their face grew and grew. Before they finished reading it, I noticed that in the bottom right corner of the paper, there was a speck of fresh blood. Just as I was about to panic, Ocean tossed the letter onto the table and let out an outburst of crying as they ran back to their room.

    “Ocean, wait!” Scott yelled, following them back. While he went after them, I grabbed the letter and got up from the table to read it, clenching it in my fist.

 

_     I’ve been watching you, Bertz. Even before you came into this world, I’ve had my eyes on you. And now that you’re finally here, I’ve taken her away.  _

_     Melanie is not who you think she is. She’s an interesting girl, but she’s no ordinary being. The girl is an angel and we must offer her to our one and only Lamia, and she’s not the only one we must sacrifice.  _

_     Don’t think of this as a tragedy or a mass murder. Unless you want to trigger a nuclear apocalypse, don’t interfere with this ritual. We are writing this to you to let you know that we are indeed watching you and your friends. If you choose to stall us . . . the wrath of the world shall consume you. _


	24. Ocean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: implied self-harm and suicide and mentions of drugs and alcohol.

    “Wh-why?!” I cried, burying my face in my pillow as I drew my covers over me. I wanted to be alone for the rest of the night, but I heard Scottie open my door.

    “Ocean,” he said, “do you need a hug or something?”

    I said nothing back and instead kept sobbing my heart out. When I didn’t reply within a minute, Scottie left the room and closed the door shut. As I predicted, I stayed in my room for the rest of the night and kept crying and crying. Mel’s sudden disappearance was for real, but it felt so surreal to me. To make sure that it was only a crazy ass nightmare, I cried myself to sleep that night and hoped to wake up the next morning to find her sleeping safe and sound in her bedroom. Or find her sleeping anywhere in the house really; I couldn’t bear to cope with the fact that she disappeared.

    When I woke up the next morning, I noticed that I slept in the clothes that I wore yesterday. I shrugged it off, figuring that I was too tired to change into my pajamas and passed out on my bed immediately; when I moved my head around, my cheek grazed across a wet patch on my pillow. It was probably from me drooling because sometimes I would do that while I was sleeping. It grossed me out, but I couldn’t really control myself. I sat up, stretching my arms outward and yawned. After stretching for another minute or two, I finally decided to leave my room and headed for the kitchen. Before I left, I quickly turned to my alarm clock and saw that it was only 9:15 AM. I slept in quite a bit, but I needed those extra hours of sleep.

    No one else was in the kitchen when I walked in there, but there was a huge plate of pancakes on the counter. When I went ahead and grabbed one, it still felt warm so I got a plate and took two more pancakes for myself. I usually ate four of them, but for some reason, I wasn’t feeling so hungry today. My stomach happened to be churning; it didn’t hurt at all, but I was afraid to eat in case I couldn’t stomach my food somehow. I tried to ignore the feeling, but it kept bothering me and I knew something was up.

    Once I finished pouring syrup onto my breakfast and grabbed a fork and a knife, I sat down at the dining table and saw Scottie walk into the kitchen. He was tired as always, but he seemed to be down in the dumps this morning. I didn’t bother to ask what was wrong, but while he was preparing to make his coffee, he shifted his attention to the dining room and saw me seated at the table.

    “Hey, Ocean,” he greeted me. “How are ya this morning?”

    “Tired,” I yawned. “I’m fine though.”

    “Well, that’s good. I noticed that you went to bed early last night.”

    “Yeah. I mean, I got over twelve hours of sleep, but I’m still tired.”

    “I wish that were me,” he said, chuckling. “I can’t remember the last time I slept for twelve hours.”

    “It’s great,” I smiled tiredly.

    I dropped the conversation right there and started to eat my pancakes, taking my time and tried to not get syrup in my hair. I wish that I brought a hair tie with me, but I would forget about it every time. Regardless, I still ate my food. When I was about to finish eating, Scottie sat down with me with a bowl of dry cereal in one hand and a carton of milk in the other.

    “So are you alright now?” he asked as he poured the milk into his bowl.

    “About what?” I asked for clarification. However, Scottie said nothing and just sighed, getting up again to put the milk back into the fridge. He broke the silence shortly when he sat back down.

    “You wish this was a dream, don’t you?” he hinted at me, but I figured what he was talking about now.

    “Yeah,” I sighed. “She’s gone for real, isn’t she?”

    He nodded slowly, taking a bite of his cereal while I sat there in despair. Though I wasn’t freaking out again, I didn’t bother to eat the last bite of my pancakes. All that I could consume at the moment was guilt and worry, and my thoughts were overwhelming me. _ “You might never see her again,”  _ one thought nagged me. _ “You never had a chance to say goodbye. She might be dead for all you know."  _ I tried to block them out, but I sat there crying, not making any noise to avoid bothering Scottie. However, he turned to me and saw tears rolling down my cheeks, ditching his breakfast to scoot his chair on over and hugged me. Even though I didn’t say I needed a hug, I knew that at a time like this I really needed all the support I could get.

    “I’m so sorry, kid,” he whispered to me, gently patting my back. “I know how it feels.”

    “I . . .” I gasped, “I loved her so much. I wanted to tell her that but now . . .” That’s when I broke down again, sinking my head into his shoulders as I let my tears stain Scottie’s sweater. I know that he didn’t mind, but after crying for two minutes he stopped hugging me and we sat there face to face. I felt pathetic looking at him straight in the eye; I was in the middle of a meltdown while he was calm and cool as he could be. I could detect the sorrow in his eyes, but whenever I had a breakdown in front of anyone, I felt like a child.

    “It’ll be alright,” he tried to reassure me. “I know it sounds whack but it’ll be okay eventually.”

    “H-how?” I blubbered. In my current state of mind, all I could think about was how everything could go wrong. 

    “It sounds crazy,” Scottie continued, “but . . . I think it might be possible to track her down and find her.”

    “Yeah, you’re crazy,” I said, laughing for a second and then crying again. “There’s no way we can find her. They left no name, no address, nothing . . .”

    Scottie didn’t say anything to me about the matter, only to get up again to go back to his room. I was on the verge of a breakdown again, but he came back out a minute later and brought out the letter. In his other hand, he held his photo album and settled the items down on the table. I wiped away my tears and toughened up a bit, ready to listen to what he had to say about the case. He flattened the letter out smoothly on the table and opened the album, skipping a few more pages before he came across a particular photo. When I glanced at it, however, it appeared to be a letter; from the looks of it, it aged well but Scottie got out his reading glasses. He wasn’t even forty yet, but I guess he never got the chance to take good care of his eyes. 

    “So,” he began, staring at me first, “have you ever compared anyone’s handwriting? Even just for fun?”

    “Ye-yeah,” I nodded, looking down at my hands. “A lot of girls I went to high school with had the same handwriting. I thought it was weird.”

    “Well, that’s the case with this letter here. Let’s take a look, shall we?”

    He turned the objects, facing them to where I could read and compare the two letters. I gave my attention to the newer letter, which still shook me with fear. I read it once, then twice, and then a third time before I moved on to read the older letter that Scottie stored in his photo album. I thought there was no way this letter could have a connection at first, but when I skimmed over it, I realized what he was talking about: both letters were written in the same handwriting.

    “No way,” I marveled. “This is so weird.”

    “Go ahead and read it,” Scottie urged. “I’ll wait.”

    Already, I went ahead and got down to business, reading it quietly in mind while I tried to make connections with the text of the new letter. This letter read the following:

 

_     May 27, 1969 _ _   
_ _   
_ _     Samuel ― _ _   
_ _   
_ _     I pray to God that you have received this letter. I have informed you over the phone that I have written these addresses in invisible ink so that no one would be able to see what they are. I also mailed this to a secret underground post office so that this letter wouldn't be thrown out or have our plot discovered. _ _   
_ _     Moving on, I have placed three admission tickets (I would’ve bought two, but I did three just in case one got lost) to the Woodstock Festival. “Why can’t we just enter illegally?” because I said so. Also, since the FBI is still, STILL looking for us, we will have to disguise ourselves as hippies or something to get in without being questioned. I know for a fact that police probably won’t attend the concert, but we must be cautious, especially when we go and plant those bombs near the stages. I hope to God I kill the Who, they fucking suck. I would rather drown myself than listen to Roger Daltrey scream for three or four minutes. _ _   
_ _     Anyways, I sincerely hope you get this letter. If not, I’m going to beat your ass the next time we meet. Our plans cannot be foiled, it is UNACCEPTABLE. I will die if this letter somehow gets picked up by that old lady like last time. It was even more embarrassing when you just HAD to make a scene at that cafe in Brooklyn months ago. Aside from that, you know what our plan is now: obliterate Woodstock into pieces on the last day of the festival. _ _   
_ _   
_ __     ― Lev de Campo

 

    While both letters consisted of the same handwriting, the syntax, dialect, and sentence patterns didn’t match those of the new letter. The tone sounded different as well; in the letter from 1969, she sounded quite dramatic and bossy, compared to the new letter where she sounded calm, yet cryptic and threatening. Either way, I came to a possible conclusion.

    “So you think Lev is behind this?” I inquired Scottie.

    “I believe so,” he said, sounding confident in his answer. “And I don’t know if you remember, but she escaped from prison about seven years ago.”

    “I remember that. It was all over the news then.”

    I looked down at the older letter again and looked back at the more recent one. My train of thought was lost momentarily, but I regained it when I read the new letter again.

    “So if Lev kidnapped Mel,” I began, “she kidnapped those other people too, right?”

    “Oh, it’s possible,” said Scottie, “but it also baffles me. Just how can you kidnap  _ that _ many people over a period of time?”

    “Well . . .” I was about to say something else, but another thing came into mind. “. . . consider this: why is she kidnapping them?”

    Scottie shrugged, which I assumed that he didn’t have an answer to that question. It’s probably one none of us wanted to think about, but we needed the answers to find Mel and the others.

    “I don’t have an exact answer for sure,” he continued, “but it might be part of some terrorist plot.”

    “Probably,” I said. “That’s a better answer than what I had in mind.”

    “Well, what’s your theory?”

    “I was still thinking about the whole cult scenario. I mean, remembering what happened to Lee, you never know what can go on in a cult.”

    I ignited a moment of discovery when Scottie gasped in surprise and ran down the hallway. He went into Mel’s room and stayed in there for two minutes until he came back out with one of her books. As I predicted, the book he brought to the table was a published book of his —  _ Inside the Lamian’s Mind: Lee’s Story _ . Not only did it told the tale of Lee’s tragic downfall and sudden death, it contained a critical piece of information that would explain Mel’s disappearance.

    He pried the book open, flipping through the pages until I saw him stop at page 109 and point to a paragraph on that page.

    “It’s right here,” he said, tapping his finger near the first read. “Go ahead.”

    I took the book into my hands, focusing on the details as I read along.

 

_     While it is unclear when these events will take place, according to Lee’s journal of teachings, a mass sacrifice must be made suddenly to quench Lamia’s blood-thirsty soul. The result of this sacrifice will result in fewer wars, possessions, breakouts of disease, violence, and promises to rid of nuclear weapons. The rewards sound rewarding, but is it worthy of sacrificing human life? Certainly not. If anything, we as people must work together to abolish these conflicts and work harder to achieve a carefree future for the children of tomorrow. _

_     But for now, we must prevent these future mass killings from happening. The blood of our own people is not worthy of achieving world peace. Lee wasn’t in favor of human sacrifice and rather, he urged people to make personal sacrifices to satisfy the demon. However, radical followers interpreted it in their own words and declared that they must sacrifice their blood to Lamia. Not only does it include mass murder, it can also refer to suicide or murder-suicide.  _

 

    I stopped reading right there, deciding that I knew enough information to understand what was going on. However, one of my questions was left unanswered, one that wasn’t addressed or mentioned in the book.

    “But why would Lev do this?” I wondered. “Why would she turn to Lamia?”

    “That’s something that I don’t know about,” Scottie told me. “But that is related to another question I’ve always been meaning to ask.”

    “Well, what is it?”

    Scottie paused the conversation, appearing to be in deep thought as he tried to remember it. Soon enough, it came back to him.

    “Well,” he started, “I’ve always wondered why she did it all in the first place.”

    “Did what?” I inquired.

    “Everything,” he paused again for a moment and then continued. “Becoming a terrorist, causing chaos and panic, slaughtering innocent people, killing Maddie . . . I know she’s evil for one thing, but I never understood her motives behind it all.”

    I wanted to believe it, but from the look in his eyes, Scottie knew something that I didn’t know about. Whether or not it was better for it to be left unsaid, something didn’t feel quite right. I wasn’t thinking about Lev, but her actions reminded me of a different blonde in particular. When I finally gathered my thoughts together, I asked Scottie the unthinkable.

    “Have you heard about the Lee theory?” I inquired. 

    “Yes,” he nodded, already expressing concern. “What about it?”

    “Since I figured you’re close to Isaac and Jeong . . . is he still alive?”

    “Well, um . . . he —”

    Before he could answer my question, Bona barged the door open and walked into the house, closing it behind him. He smiled and waved at us; I waved back.

    “How was your walk, son?” Scottie asked him.

    “Lame as usual,” said Bona. “Ira got to work a little late but she won’t get marked since Kyle’s there.”

    “That’s good.”

    “Yeah, definitely. And what were ya guys talkin’ about? The discussion looked intense when I came in.”

    “Oh, that?” Scottie remembered. “We were talking about whether pineapple goes on pizza or not.”

    “It doesn’t!” I opined. “Fruit isn’t supposed to go on pizza, you moron!” 

    I thought that the lie would work, but Bona wasn’t falling for it at all. I was confused for a second and couldn’t figure out why, but I looked down at the table and saw the books that were out. The bowl of soggy cereal still sat there, but Scottie got up to dispose of it. While he was washing the bowl out, Bona sat down at the table to join in on the conversation.

    “Okay,” he started, “what’s goin’ on?”

    “Well, uh . . .” I wasn’t sure how to carry on the discussion since I still didn’t know much about Lev or Lee. For one thing, they both turned to Lamia’s influence, yet their motives remained unclear. However, I was certain that my stance on the conspiracy theory was true. When Scottie was finished washing the dishes, he picked up his books and the letter and headed down the hallway.

    “Follow me,” he instructed. “I’ll explain everything in a minute.”

    Bona and I got up, forgetting to scoot our chairs in while we followed Scottie to wherever. We all ended up in his office, where it was nice and tidy and his desk appeared to be organized. There was a bit of clutter and some papers spread out on it, but other than that he had a nice setup. While Bona and I sat on the couch that was on the opposite side of the room, Scottie put both books back on the bookshelf and the letter in a black folder. After putting those items away, he walked back to the bookshelf and grabbed another photo album. It looked just like the previous one, except this one had a miniature lock on it to keep it closed. Scottie pulled a small key out of his pocket and clutched onto it.

    “This is my secret photo album,” he stated. “If any of you fuckers tell anyone else about these photos, I’ll kill myself.”

    “For real?!” I blurted.

    “No, I was kidding about that last part,” he said, chuckling for a second. “But seriously, if you tell anyone else about this, God knows how much trouble I’ll be in. Got it?”

    “Yup,” Bona and I both replied at once. 

    I scooted onto the other side of the couch to make room for Scottie, who then sat in the middle. He stuck the key into the lock and turned it, producing a clicking noise and pulled it out to open the album. When he turned the first couple of pages, there was nothing to look at. I was ready to ask him what this book was about, but then he finally stopped at a page which contained a photo. When we all took a closer look at it, Bona and I couldn’t believe our eyes.

    “This answers your question, Ocean,” said Scottie. “Whaddaya think?”

    I observed the photo for another minute or two to capture all the details in my mind. While the photo wasn’t too old, the date written on it stated it was taken on May 20, 1985. The front of the house set up as the background for the photo while Scottie and a stranger stood there by his front door. Well, the stranger wasn’t much a stranger — it was none other than Lee. However, I could only tell that it was him just by reading the title of the photograph:  _ Reagan’s 33rd Birthday! _

    Instead of sporting the usual glam-rock look, he dressed casually and his hair was cut short and he dyed it. His hair was still a little long, so his haircut looked similar to that of Princess Diana’s except he wasn’t blonde anymore. Though the dark brown haircut was strange for a change, it suited him quite well. Like I said, it was a clever disguise but I could only tell it was him when I read the description of the photograph. Aside from his appearance, he held a faint smile and stood there with his hands in his pockets. Scottie, on the other hand, stood against the front door of his house and crossed his arms. Yet, he managed to pull a bigger, brighter smile. That was weird to me because I’ve never seen him smile that much.

    “What did ya guys do that day?” Bona inquired. “And who took the photo?”

    “Isaac did,” Scottie replied. “Before that day, he and his family decided to come pay me a visit. And at the same time, Lee — Reagan, I mean — came to see me.”

    “He knew where you lived?!” I asked in surprise.

    “Nah,” he said, “he actually came along with Isaac and them. But it was a nice week.”

    When Scottie turned the next page, it revealed another picture of Lee. In the picture, he was showing a kid how to play baseball while Isaac sat down on a bench nearby and watched. I assumed that the kid was Carlos just by looking at his tan skin complexion. I thought the photo itself was cute, so I cracked a smile. 

    “Yeah,” said Scottie, “that’s one of my favorites too.”

    “How old is he?” I asked, pointing to Carlos in the photo.

    “Carlos? He’s ten now. He was seven I believe when Laurie took that photo.”

    “Laurie?” Bona asked, giving Scottie a puzzled expression. “Now who’s that?”

    “Well . . .” Scottie paused for a moment, deciding on what to say. “What else can I say? He’s Reagan’s boyfriend.”

    “Oh,” I replied. “How come no one has heard of him?”

    “He’s shy,” Scottie replied. “He doesn’t like being the center of attention.

    After I looked at the photo for another second, Scottie closed the book and locked it, getting up off the couch to put it back on the shelf. I sat there, resting my temple against the tips of my fingers as I thought about the first photo. Though Scottie could be using photo manipulation for all I know, I thought the photo was legit. Lee was alive and well, but he remained in hiding and didn’t want to come into the public eye ever again.

    “Scott,” Bona called for him. “Was Lee a member of the band Japan?”

    “Huh? No,” Scottie answered, looking puzzled. “What have you been reading?”

    “There was this theory that Lee escaped to London and pretended to David Sylvian. There wasn’t any proof but it was so stupid.”

    “Oh yeah, I remember that now. Reagan and I thought it was ridiculous.”

    “Yeah, I mean, they looked so much alike but they’re completely different people!”

    “Scottie,” I interrupted, getting up to walk around the room, “what does he do now?”

    “He’s a teacher,” he said. “He teaches American and world history at a high school in Alpharetta, Georgia.”

    “Does he like his job?”

    He shrugged, tilting his hand back and forth for a few seconds.

    “It’s so-so,” he replied, “He’s passionate about what he loves, but his teaching style is somewhat strict. Most of the students love him though and he lets them eat in his classroom during their lunch break.”

    “Well, what was his worst experience?” Bona asked him.

    “That I can’t really answer,” Scottie told him. “We’re close friends now, but I don’t talk to him every single day because we’re both busy, y’know?”

    “Oh yeah, I totally understand that.”

    Bona got up and left the room, telling us that he was going to go work on his art. Scottie and I both waved bye as I watched him walk away until he went to his room. I faced the bookshelf again, scanning the rows of books that stood before me while Scottie pulled out the first photo album again. I watched him turn the pages, turning and turning until he got to the back of the book. On the final page, there was that one particular photo I’ve seen before, one that was filled with joy and heartbreak.

    The original photograph has aged a bit since it was nearly twenty years old, but the subject of the photo was timeless. In the picture, Scottie and his former girlfriend Madison Hiltz were cuddling, sleeping together inside a small tent while camping at Woodstock. A description of the picture was written underneath the photo, on the white space of the film. 

 

_ Scottie + Maddie at Woodstock, August ‘69 _

_ Photographed by Jules Malanzki _

 

    I expected a depressed sigh or a sob, but instead, I turned my head and saw Scottie smiling at the picture. After looking at it for another second or two, he closed the book shut and put it back on the shelf. 

    “Do you get depressed when you think about her?” I question, not sure if it was a good time to ask him that. 

    “Sometimes,” he answered with honesty. “I sometimes wish I would’ve confessed sooner, but I’m still grateful for the time we had together.”

    “I just can’t imagine it though, because wasn’t she like your soulmate or something?”

    “It was very . . . very hard for me to cope with. I didn’t accept it for several years because I always thought she was the one.”

    “Several years?!”

    “Yeah,” he nodded, walking back to the couch to take a seat. I could tell that he was still tired, but he didn’t want to stop talking. “My coping mechanisms were the worst, but I eventually handled it in the worst way possible.”

    He stopped there for a minute, rolling up his left sleeve and extended his forearm toward me. When I got a good glance of it, I saw a huge vertical scar, which trailed from his wrist to elbow. Judging by the visibility of it, it had been years since his attempt. I clasped my hands over my mouth, trying to hold back my tears while Scottie rolled his sleeve back up.

    “I lived, of course,” he continued. “Isaac and Jeong saved me and I thanked them for it. I love them so much, especially Isaac . . .”

    A tear rolled down my cheek, but I suddenly felt puzzled by Scottie’s statement. I moved my hands, allowing me to talk again.

    “In what way do you mean by that?” I croaked.

    “Well . . .” he paused, smiling for a split second before he went on. “He’s my boyfriend too.”

    “Does Jeong know?!”

    “Yes, of course! They allowed it and they’re not the jealous type either.”

    “Well . . . I mean, it’s probably hard to give two people attention at once, but I’m glad you guys worked it out.”

    “Me too,” he nodded. “But back to what I was saying . . . they both made me realize some things.”

    “And what is that?” I asked, sitting down on the couch again. Scottie crossed his arms and his legs, exhaling a sigh of relief.

    “Life is too short to hold onto the past,” he said. “It took me awhile to accept it, but I worked on it eventually. And when Carlos was born, I stopped drinking and smoking dope completely while I still lived with Isaac and Jeong. Now I’ll still drink and get high occasionally, but I’m a responsible adult and I know my limits. And I’m glad to be alive now.”

    “Me too,” I agreed. “I mean I still struggle with depression, but I’m doing much better than what I was going through in high school.”

    “Well, hey, recovery is never linear. Life isn’t either, so you’re always going to have your ups and downs.”

    He was right. I always tried my hardest to be happy, but all it ever did was frustrate me and it pushed me into a depressive episode. But now I just went with the flow and tried to live my life to the fullest; however, my life wasn’t going according to plan. I wanted Mel back, no matter what the cost. Even if I had to lose a limb or two, or tolerate any emotional or psychological torture of any kind, I wanted to save her from whatever Lev was plotting. I focused too much on the situation and didn’t notice what was going on around me. Eventually, I felt Scottie shaking my arm and heard that he was talking to me.

    “Are you okay?” he asked, looking at me with a worried face. “You’re crying.”

    “I . . . I am?” I whispered, feeling the beads of tears tumble down my cheeks. “Fuck . . .”

    “You’re thinking about her again, aren’t ya?”

    “Ye-yeah.”

    He grabbed my wrist and got up, tugging on it to get me to get up. I followed his instructions and got up, wiping away my tears as I continued to cry.

    “C’mon,” he said. “You can cry it out but not in here.”

    We walked out of his office and I let him guide me to wherever, and we ended up back in my room. I collapsed on my bed, crying into my pillow while Scottie pulled up my chair from my desk and sat on it. He wasn’t sure how to help me, but he sat there and was ready to listen to me. Eventually, I stopped crying but took a few slow, deep breaths before I got the courage to ask him this daring question.

    “Are we gonna find Mel?”

    Silence was the only answer at first; Scottie sat there, resting his chin in his hand while he thought about it. I was about to cry again as I prepared for the worst possible answer, but I received a completely different answer.

    “Of course,” he replied. “You think I would just sit here and watch you suffer?”

    “Um,” I mumbled. “Well, I . . . I mean, what could I do about it? I have no idea where she could be.”

    “Well, I found Lev once and I’ll be damned if I won’t find her again. And we’re all here for you, kid.”

    “So . . . we’re all going?”

    “I mean, I would figure since Ira and Bona are both taking a year break from college. It’s better than being stuck inside the house all day.”

    “Well, I like them, so I’m happy they’re coming.”

    “Definitely,” he paused there and then groaned afterward. “I’ll have to get a new car though.”

    “Why?” I asked, sounding disgusting even though I didn’t mean too.

    “Jules is going to come with us,” he said, “so we’ll probably have to get a Volkswagen or something.”

    Jules? Does he mean the person that took the picture of him and Madison?

    “Who’s Jules?” I asked again, not recalling a time he mentioned that person.

    “Oh, I forgot,” he remembered. “Jules is a friend and neighbor of mine — they were the one who took that picture of me and Maddie.”

    “They live nearby?” I wondered. “What do they look like? I might’ve seen them before.”

    “Well, I don’t think you could miss them,” he assumed. “They’re the only old person living in this neighborhood. I don’t know what they’re doing or eating, but they look like they’re forty-five rather than sixty-nine.”

    “Oh!” I blurted. “I think I saw them watering their plants the other day.”

    “Yup, that’s Jules!”

    Quickly, I got up from my bed and hurried into the kitchen, heading to the kitchen sink to peer out the window to see if they were out in their backyard. I saw no one, but I still smiled at the scenery. I know that I could never take care of a garden, but I admired the flowers from a distance. In a sea of yellow roses, I spotted one of my favorites — a plumeria. I don’t know what was up with them but whenever I saw one, I was filled with hope. Even in the darkest moments of my life, I still had hope for the future thanks to those flowers. 

    “Their garden is amazing, isn’t it?” remarked Scottie. 

    “Definitely,” I said. 

    For the rest of the day, all I thought about was the garden.


	25. Ira

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: mention of drug use.

    Before I knew it, time flew by and it was already five in the afternoon when I saw Bona outside the store, sitting on a bench nearby waiting patiently for me to get off work. Another minute was about to pass until Kyle saw him sitting outside and looked up at the clock.

    “You can go home now, Ira,” he dismissed me. “Have a good night, and please be safe!”

    “Thanks,” I said, leaving the register once I checked out the remaining groceries for the last customer. I clocked out and then left the store to meet up with Bona outside.

    “Hey,” he greeted me as he got up. “How was work?”

    “It was fine,” I said, sighing afterward. “But it’s starting to bore me outta my mind.”

    “At least it’s better than sittin’ in the house all day,” he reminded me. “Let’s be thankful that Kyle’s lenient.”

    “You’re right about that.”

    “Yeah. Anyway, whaddya wanna do tomorrow?”

    I know that tomorrow was Friday the 19th for sure, but I haven’t made any plans and or haven’t thought about it since Mel disappeared. It’s been nearly two weeks since it happened and I thought I would be over it by now, but the thought of me vanishing still startled me. Since then, I haven’t gone out much and refused to walk alone whenever I left the house. I’ve only left when I would walk to work and back with Bona, but that was about it. I think I’ve gone to the park once with Scott, but we only stayed there for ten minutes before a thunderstorm rolled in.

    “I’m not sure,” I shrugged. “I haven’t thought about it.”

    “Well, I was gonna suggest that we’d go to the movies,” he said, “but there’s nothing good out right now.”

    “We can always pull out the VCR and watch  _Withnail & I _ again if you want to.”

    “Again?” he groaned. “I mean, I love that movie, but I swear I can quote every line of that movie by now.”

    “So what do you want to do?” I inquired, having nothing in mind. As we walked past a park, Bona turned his head to look back at it for a few seconds and then turned back to me.

    “You wanna go get lunch and then walk through Beverly Meadow tomorrow?” he suggested. “I’ll pay this time.”

    I felt somewhat hesitant to reject this plan, but I figured that it would be better than staying inside and watching _Withnail & I _ for the umpteenth time.

    “Sounds like a plan to me,” I declared. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow.”

    “Yeah, same . . .” he said, watching the clouds in the distance. “Do you have something in mind?”

    “Huh?”

    “I mean whaddya wanna eat?”

    “Oh, um . . .” I haven’t thought about anything, but I was able to make up my mind real quick. “I’m fine with anything.”

    “You wanna get somethin’ from McDonald’s?”

    On second thought, I was fine with anything but McDonald’s. In general, I didn’t want to eat anything from any fast food restaurant.

    For the past few days, all that Scott brought home for dinner was McDonald’s. This past week had been a busy one and Bona went to another therapy appointment, leaving us with a tight, tight budget. There wasn’t much food in the house either, so he settled for the cheapest meals possible. Before then, I had never eaten anything from there. When I was growing up, my parents didn’t allow my brother and I to eat fast food, even if we were out with friends. I recalled Uncle Dev coming over to our house a few times with a McDonald’s bag in his hand, but he would shoo us away to eat his cheeseburger in peace.

    Sunday night was the first time I ate a cheeseburger from there. At first, I thought the taste was okay; it wasn’t the best cheeseburger I ever had, but it wasn’t the worst. However, when I wrapped my second cheeseburger and took a bite out of that one, I couldn’t take it anymore and wrapped it up to throw it back in the bag. Scott noticed my reaction, but instead of going out to buy food from somewhere else, he brought me chicken nuggets instead of a cheeseburger. They were just as bad, but they were somewhat tolerable.

    “No,” I shook my head. “I don’t know why, but just smelling their cheeseburgers just make me sick.”

    “I like McDonald’s,” Bona told me, “but In-N-Out is way better. I’m fine with whatever you want, though.”

    “Indian food then?” I suggested.

    “Yeah, sure! I’ve always wanted to try it.”

    “Alright!”

    Our plan for tomorrow was definite now, but I still worried about the weather. I wouldn’t mind walking through the park after it rained, but I wasn’t planning to get caught up in a storm already. Besides, getting lost or being misguided was the last thing I wanted to happen. I was still cautious to go out, however, since I started looking out for Lev. I wasn’t quite sure what she looked like anymore, but the details of her face were imprinted in my mind since I saw her mugshot on the news a few years back.

    Bona and I arrived back home just in time for dinner, but sadly, we were all eating fast food again. When I walked back into the house, the smell of McDonald’s was absent and instead, there were two Burger King bags sitting on the dining room table. Still, I despised fast food but I was tempted to try it to see if it was better, just slightly better than McDonald’s.

    “Hey guys,” Scott waved to us. “Pay day’s not until tomorrow so we’re having fast food again. I got Burger King this time because I know you’re probably tired of McDonald’s by now.”

    I was already tired of their food from the start.

    “What did ya brought?” Bona asked, peeking into the bag.

    “The usual,” Scottie replied. “Chicken, burgers, fries — I didn’t bring home any pop though.”

    “It’s fine,” I said, grabbing a large bag of chicken nuggets. “I don’t like soda anyway.”

    “Oh, so Coke just doesn’t exist to you anymore?” Bona teased me, cracking a grin.

    “That’s the only one I can drink,” I claim, “but I can’t remember the last time I drank one.”

    I heard a door shut and turned my head, peering into the hallway until I saw Ocean, who smiled and waved back at me.

    “Did you get any sweet and sour sauce like I told ya to?” they asked Scott.

    “Yeah,” he nodded. “There’s four of them in the bag with all the chicken in it.”

    “Thanks!”

    Ocean grabbed two bags of chicken nuggets and put them aside to collect the tubs of sweet and sour sauce. I gave them a puzzling look, wondering why they would dip their nuggets into that type of sauce. It didn’t disturb or shock me, but I couldn’t recall anyone who liked that combination.

    I sat down between Ocean and Bona and I began to eat my dinner — if you could even call it as such. For the first couple of minutes, I only ate my nuggets and fries with ketchup and occasionally dipped my nuggets in honey mustard. While Ocean and I were the only ones eating chicken nuggets, Scott and Bona ate their cheeseburgers and were engaged in a conversation about their most memorable moments in high school. Scott didn’t have much to say since he wasn’t a wild child back in the day, but Bona had some interesting stories.

    “One time,” he started, “during my junior year, I went to my buddy Jeff’s place to get high with him and my other friend Victor. I got so high that I was using Jeff’s pet mouse as a computer mouse for his dad’s work computer!”

    “My God!” Scott burst out laughing. “Oh man, I don’t think I’ve done something as crazy as that!”

    “It was so hilarious! Has that ever happened to you, Ocean?”

    “Huh?” they mumbled, confused when they looked up to Bona.

    “Did you ever got high?” Bona clarified.

    There was a moment of awkward silence from Ocean, but eventually, they gave him an answer.

    “I tried it once,” they admitted, “but I haven’t since then.”

    “It just isn’t your thing?” he asked.

    “It made me so anxious. I don’t know why, but I don’t feel like trying again.”

    “That’s understandable,” said Scott. “Isaac’s kinda like that. He used to smoke a lot but it turns him into a nervous wreck now.”

    I didn’t really have any drug stories to share or know what to comment, so I ate my chicken nuggets in peace until Scott changed the topic of the conversation. It seemed so sudden, but I was ready to move on from the drug talk.

    “So you and Bona are going out tomorrow?” Scott asked me. I didn’t hear him at first, but then Bona tapped my shoulder and pointed to him, asking him to repeat the question.

    “Oh, yeah, definitely,” I said, nodding my head. “I have a three-day weekend so I figured that Bona and I could go out.”

    “Well, that’s sweet of him,” he smiled at me and then turned back to Bona. “You two be careful though, okay? Lev’s still out and about.”

    “We will,” Bona promised. “We won’t be out for too long. They said it’s supposed to rain later tomorrow.”

    “Yeah,” I said. “If it rains while we’re out, we might not even go to the park.”

    “Which park?” Scott queried. “There’s a billion of them in Canterbury.”

    "Beverly Meadow,” I replied.

    “Well . . .” Scott let out a sigh of disbelief, looking down at his burger. “Like I said, be careful, okay? That’s a hot spot for these disappearances.”

    “I think they’ll be okay,” Ocean assumed. “They’re going together so I don’t see why Lev would snatch them both.”

    “But still . . . I don’t wanna lose you both,” Scott said with a hint of dismay in his voice. “I don’t wanna lose any of you, and we still have to find Mel soon.”

    “And when will that happen?”

    Scott put his cheeseburger down and let out another sigh, turning to the window to have a glimpse of the world outside. I turned and saw that it was finally starting to get dark outside and heard the rain coming down. Thunder cracked in the distance, creating a loud silence in the room as we all ate quietly. None of us didn’t know what to say next, but I could tell how everyone was doing.

    I looked up to Ocean from across the table, who had a look of disappointment on their face. I couldn’t tell what they were upset about for sure, but it was either because their nuggets were shit or they were mad at Scott for not providing the right answer. I looked back at Scott, who still stared into the window. And there was Bona, who sat there eating his cheeseburger in complete silence. I could hear how loud he was chewing and it was starting to bother me, but luckily, Scott finally broke the silence.

    “Soon . . .” he sighed. “We’ll get to it eventually. I’m still saving up money for that Volkswagen.”

    “I know,” Ocean reminded him, resting their temple in their hand. “I’m just afraid we won’t be able to save her in time.”

    “It’s going to be okay,” I reassured them. “I promise. Just remember that you won’t be doing this alone. We’ll find her, okay?”

    “Okay,” they sighed. “Sorry . . . I’m just so worried.”

    “No, don’t be sorry,” I said. “You have a right to feel anxious. We all do.”

    Ocean couldn’t carry on the conversation, but they nodded and pushed their chicken nuggets to the side. They shifted their position in their seat and got up, picking up any garbage they left on the table.

    “I’m going to bed early,” they mumbled.

    “Didn’t you just woke up from a nap?” Scott inquired, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

    “Yeah,” they admitted, “but I’m still upset.”

    “Well . . . goodnight then.”

    “Night.”

    After they threw the garbage into the trash can nearby, Ocean walked away and retired to their room for the evening. It was only eight o’clock, but the weight of my eyelids began to weigh in and I yawned once I finished eating. I didn’t know why I was so tired; work was rather busy and I was up and running the whole time, so I couldn’t figure out why I was feeling so drained all of the sudden. Perhaps it was the calm, isolated atmosphere of the rain because I always took naps while it was pouring outside.

    I was seconds away from passing out in my seat, but I heard Scott talking and jumped in my seat, giving myself a mini-heart attack.

    “Huh?!” I blurted, looking at Scott with an alarmed expression.

    “Nevermind,” he dismissed himself, “but I hope you two have fun tomorrow.”

    “Thanks,” Bona said, finishing the last bit of his dinner. After he was all done, he got up and stretched his arms. “Damn, I’m feeling tired already.”

    “Is it the rain?” I asked.

    “Yeah,” he yawned. “It’s kinda weird though because the rain never makes me tired.”

    “Hmm.”

    Already, Bona went to bed and I was left alone with Scott, creating an awkward silence between us. We weren’t on bad terms or anything, but we didn’t know what to talk about. Once we finished eating our food, he threw his trash away and retreated to his room.

    “I’m going to write for another hour if you need me,” he told me. “But other than that, goodnight, Ira.”

    “Goodnight, Scott,” I said, rubbing my eyes to stay awake.

    I struggled to stay up for another hour or two while I laid on the couch watching _Ferris Bueller’s Day Off_ , but I gave up and turned off the TV. When I got to my room, I stripped my clothes off and passed out on my bed, only wearing my underwear and a thin tank top. I slept like a baby that night but had a strange dream where I sat in an empty room in complete silence. It didn’t scare me or drive me crazy, but I questioned the meaning of it.

* * *

 

    When the rain passed and disappeared for the rest of the day, Bona and I went straight to Beverly Meadow after we were through with our lunch date. Bona enjoyed the food, so I gave him the rest of my lunch when I was too full to eat anymore. It made me happy to see him eat something for once; I wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, but he was either a picky eater or his eating habits weren’t normal or disordered. Either way, I was happy to see him eat something that he liked for once.

    We walked in the park for about an hour, waiting for one of the benches to dry off before we could sit down. Eventually, we found one that was under a small pavilion and it was drier than all of the other benches. We walked over there in a hurry, even though no one else was around the area. Carefully, I sat down as I fixed my short, black shirt and watched to make sure I didn’t accidentally tear my fishnet tights. They were my favorite pair, and I certainly didn’t want to ruin them today. Usually, I never wore shorts or short skirts in general because I always felt self-conscious about my legs, but today was a day for me to relax. Or I thought so.

    “It’s so nice out today,” I said, admiring the sun-soaked scenery in front of us.

    “It is,” Bona agreed. “I wish that I brought my camera so that I could take some pictures.”

    “It’s fine! You can bring it next time.”

    “Well . . . if there’s even gonna be a next time, then sure.”

    Bona’s words left me baffled and already, I was feeling a bit anxious. Was he talking about what I was thinking?

    “What do you mean?” I asked, trying to sound unbothered. However, Bona could tell that I was afraid of whatever was coming up.

    “We can disappear any day now,” he said, “and at any minute.”

    “And?” I waited for him to continue. I get what he was saying, but I wanted to hear his thoughts on the situation.

    “We’ll leave England one day,” he stated, “and we might not be able to come back to this.”

    “For how long?” I questioned him.

    “Forever.”

    Forever? I know that we were going to leave soon, but he was starting to scare me. What did he mean by forever? What did he mean? Was he actually serious about this?

    “What do you mean by that?” I asked him to clarify, resting the palm of my hand on the back of his hand.

    “Everything is gonna change,” he told me, “whether we like or not.”

    “Of course, they will. That’s just life, right?”

    “I know, but that’s not what I mean.”

    “So what do you mean?”

    He didn’t answer back at first, turning his head and looked at the woods that were ahead in the distance. Most of their leaves were green, still young and bright with unwavering hope. But then there were a couple of trees here and there, whose leaves were starting to deplete of their color. They weren’t a rich red-orange color like you would see in some photographs; instead, they were showing a muddy, lifeless brown and would shrivel up before detaching themselves from the tips of the branches. Finally, they fall to the ground of the forest, receiving a quick, agonizing death as they are crushed under the boots of hikers.

    Aside from the leaves, life is like the four seasons of the earth. Changes come and go, whether we like them or not, but I know that Bona was talking about something completely different. Yet, none of it made sense to me. I didn’t have to wonder for long when he finally provided me an answer.

    “Nothing has been the same since Mel disappeared.”

    “I’ve been aware of that, Captain Obvious,” I said. “But when we find her, everything will go back to normal, right?”

    He shook his head, giving me a look of resignation.

    “I wish that were the case,” he sighed. “Ira . . . I’ve read that book that Scott wrote. And he let me read some of Lee’s writings.”

    “So what does this mean?” I asked, urging him to give me a direct answer already.

    “Whatever happens, nothing will ever go back to normal.” He turned his head to the direction of the trees again and then back to me. “Nothing about this world was normal, to begin with.”

    “How come? And why?”

    “It’s because of that wretched demon Lee tried to warn us about. Look, he might’ve been paranoid, but he had a right to be. Even if we save Mel and turn Lev in again, it’s gonna haunt us.”

    “But what are you saying?!” I was on the verge of crying now, but I couldn’t do it in public, especially not in front of Bona. I know he wasn’t the type of man to lash out at me or anything like that, but I would feel embarrassed and ashamed of myself.

    “When we come back to this place,” he continued, “we’ll realize that this world isn’t as beautiful as we thought it out to be.”

    “But how could you say such a thing?!” I exclaimed. “You and I both know that we have suffered enough!”

    “But we can’t just pretend that everything is fine.” I looked straight into his eyes and could tell that he was about to start crying. He tried to hold it, but one tear started to trail down his cheek already. “They say that ignorance is bliss, but have you ever thought about what could happen in the long run?”

    “Of course I do,” I sniffled, wiping a tear away. “I think about America and Russia sometimes. I can’t sleep some nights because I’m afraid a nuclear fallout will happen while I’m asleep.”

    “Well, that’s how I feel about this whole situation — about Mel I mean. But like I said before, Lamia’s gonna haunt us for the rest of our lives even if we find her. It got to Lee, and I know it’s haunting Scott for sure.”

    “But he seems to be doing just fine,” I assumed.

    “Well, that man can surely cope for one thing,” Bona added. “But sometimes he has this look in his eyes and . . . you get the picture. I know that it still hurts him, Ira.”

    “Madison passing away?” I guessed.

    “E-Everything,” he stuttered, trying not to have a breakdown. “I know I shouldn’t be cryin’, but I respect that man so much.”

    “No, it’s okay. I mean, he’s been through a lot of shit . . . just like us.”

    I was starting to feel calm again, but I know that Bona was driven to tears and would rather be at home, so I grabbed his hand and got up to get him going. Before I could take another step, however, an envelope flew by in the breeze and bumped into my ankle. It nearly startled me, but when I looked down and saw that it was only an envelope, I let out a quick sigh of relief. However, I soon learned that it wasn’t something to ignore.

    “What in the hell?” puzzled Bona. “What kind of scumbag would litter this place?”

    “I’ll get it,” I said, crouching down to scoop up what I presumed was garbage. When I turned the envelope around just to have a curious glimpse at the details, my eyes widen in surprise and my jaw dropped. This piece of mail was addressed to us, and to make matters worse, there was no return address of any sort in the corner.

    “Are you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” he questioned, squeezing my hand with his. I squeezed it right back.

    “We have to go now,” I whispered to him. “We’re not safe here and we have to show it to Scott right now.”

    Without further hesitation, Bona and I took off and kept running until we were home. Bona was right about that place; we couldn’t go back at all.


	26. Ocean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: vague imagery of masturbation, imagery of nudity, implied sex, and mentions of sexual abuse/assault.

    Ira and Bona barged the door wide open and ran inside in a hurry while I was in the middle of making an egg sandwich. I jumped a bit, almost knocking the pan over but I caught it just in time. Scottie appeared to be worried when he came out of his room, trying to see what the commotion was about. I was about to ask Ira why she and Bona came running into the house, but Bona interrupted the two of us to talk to Scottie.

    “We found this in the park!” he exclaimed, waving an envelope around. “It has our address on it!”

    “Close the door real quick,” Scottie commanded. “No one can hear about this, not even the neighbors!”

    “Right on!”

    As Bona went back to close the door, Ira and I each took a seat at the dinner table while we waited for Scottie to join us. He pulled one of the chairs out a bit and then sat down in it, pulling out his reading glasses to read the address again to make sure he wasn’t dreaming or anything. When Bona walked into the dining room, he joined the group and looked over the envelope, trying to get a glimpse of the address. When Scottie’s eyes traveled to the left corner of the envelope, he raised an eyebrow and frowned.

    “I’ve seen this before,” he claimed, setting the mail down to talk to us. Well, by us, I meant Ira and Bona. “And where did you said you found this?”

    “In Beverly Meadow,” Ira replied. “We were about to leave and the wind pushed it to my ankle.”

    “It was just there? Floating by in the park?”

    “Yeah. I’m surprised that no one threw it away before we came.”

    “Well, I’m going to go ahead and open it already if you don’t mind.”

    Carefully, Scottie slid his finger underneath the flap of paper that closed the opening of the envelope. He slid his finger inch by inch, trying his best to not cut himself and get a paper cut. At one point, I thought he was gonna accidentally slide the edge of the paper against his skin, but before it could even happen, he gently tore the flap off of the paper and finally opened the envelope. He gave a sigh of great relief, already taking the letter out to see what this was about.

    “‘For my good friend Scottie,”’ he read on the paper before unfolding it. “This can’t be good.”

    He lowered the letter as he unfolded it, but some of us still leaned over to see what the letter said. Judging by the direction his eyes were going, he wasn’t so far into reading the letter, but he leaned back into his seat and let out a “Phew!” as he ran a hand over his forehead and into his hair.

    “Jesus!” he huffed. “That bastard Barnaby almost gave me a heart attack! I thought it was a letter from Lev for a second.” He looked down at the letter once again and let out a small, exhausted laugh.

    “Wait,” I said, “who’s Barnaby?”

    “Oh, that Barnaby!” Ira chuckled. “He’s a good friend of Scottie’s and he’s a writer just like him.”

    “And he lives nearby!” Bona brought up. “Well, not that close. He works and lives in Paris but he’s from Philadelphia.”

    “I’ve never heard of him,” I said with uncertainty. “What does he write about?”

    Before anyone could answer my question, Scottie slammed the letter down for the rest of us to read. Ira reached out and collected it, bringing it close to her while Bona and I gathered around her to read what the letter was about. Since the letter itself wasn’t from Lev, I didn’t expect to read any bad news or threats or anything of that matter. However, it did have to do with Mel’s case. I scooted my chair closer to Ira, taking my time to read the letter carefully. At the same time, I was admiring Barnaby’s handwriting; compared to Scottie’s, his writing was neat, bold, and legible. Not saying that Scottie’s handwriting was chicken scratch compared to his friend’s, but sometimes when I read his notes or writing that he wrote in cursive, I couldn’t push myself to read it.

    Barnaby’s letter read the following:

 

_     August 15, 1988 _

 

_     Scottie — _

 

_     Hello again! It’s me, your good friend Barnaby. I have two things to talk about with you. First things first, I’ll answer your questions that you wrote in the previous letter. _

_     I’ve been doing just fine. I came down with a nasty stomach virus but I’m doing better now. And yes, I’m almost finished with that book about the encounter back in March. I still have yet to contact a new editor and agent, but I’ll get on that when I finish writing the rough draft. I know it’s a draft and it doesn’t have to perfect, but you know how I am. I’m a perfectionist and it’s a pain in the ass sometimes, but some days it can be rewarding. _

_     Lastly . . . this about your friend, Melanie. She’s that friend of yours that disappeared recently, right? Well, I saw her the other night at the Red Corridor with an older blonde woman. She looked very familiar but I couldn’t recall who she was. They didn’t stay for long but I overheard that they were on their way to Moscow. I’m not sure about how you can get there, but I’m writing this letter to you to let you know where she is. I’m very sorry I didn’t call the cops on the woman though. I didn’t recognize who Melanie was until her picture came up on the news. I am very sorry. _

_     But before you leave for Moscow, do you mind coming to Paris and having little chat with me? You know where I live, so I hope to see you in meantime. Good luck with your search! _

 

    —  _ Barnaby A. Kazmierski _

 

    I leaned back in my seat, placing my hands on my forehead as my eyes widen in amazement.  _ “She’s alive, oh my God,” _ I thought.  _ “She’s still alive!” _

    “I know what you’re thinking, kid,” Scottie said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “We have the Volkswagen now, but we have to wait just a few more weeks.”

    “When?!” I inquired, whipping my head in his direction.

    “If everything goes according to plan, we’ll leave on September 7th.”

    “That’s some great timing right there, Scott,” Ira declared. “My last day of work is on the fifth.”

    “Oh, that’s great!” exclaimed Scottie. “Are you quitting?”

    “No, it’s a seasonal job, remember?”

    “Ohh, okay. Yeah, I remember now.”

    I was about to contribute to the conversation but jumped up when I remembered that my eggs were still busy frying. I hurried over to the stove, making sure they didn’t completely burn up. There were some dark spots here and there, but my food was safe to eat. Better to have it overcooked than undercooked, otherwise I would catch salmonella or whatnot. 

    When I finished preparing my sandwich, I sat back down with the group but they were talking about something else completely different. I didn’t really have anything to contribute to the conversation — they were talking  _ Star Trek _ — so I sat there listening while I quietly ate my sandwich. Then they talked about old life stories, previous vacations they went on, the one time Ira accidentally ran into a tree while she was biking. My friends lead the most exciting lives; what’s there for me? Nothing. So far, my life has been depressing and uneventful, and while I was trying to remain optimistic about the future, I feel like I was going nowhere. Despite being on my dream vacation right now, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed in myself. To make matters worse, my crush was kidnapped and there’s a possibility she might end up dead if I — or we — don’t save her in time.

    I let out a quiet, remorseful sigh while I got up to put my plate away in the sink. When I was done, I retreated to my room and shut the door behind me to be left alone. Well, I know that people will still come into my room whenever, but I needed some alone time. I wasn’t mad at any of them, but I really needed it. No one shouldn’t have to see my suffering now either. I always hated it when I got upset in front of others, mainly because my mom despised it when I cried in front of her. She always told me to knock it off or just grow the fuck up, but I couldn’t. And I still can’t. I’ve always been a crybaby.

    To try and cheer myself up, I pulled the nightstand drawer out and grabbed my photo album. I laid down and opened up the book, going for a stroll down my own rocky version of memory lane. My childhood and teenage years weren’t something I wanted to remember fondly, but I still held onto a few good memories. A few good memories — there wasn’t a lot to remember from. Regardless, I looked at all the polaroids and tried to remember the occasion they were taken on. I didn’t bother to smile at any of them though, flipping through the rest of the pages to fast forward to my junior and senior years of high school. It was a happier time period; in those last two years, I became good friends with Mel and I formed my own friend group finally. 

    Though Mel and I went to the same college and were best, best friends, I had no idea where all my other friends went. I wasn’t on bad terms with them or anything, but after high school graduation, all contact with them ceased since we parted ways and moved to different regions of the country. However, Cory stayed in Ohio and went to Cleveland State University with us. I always forgot that he existed, but then I began to remember that dreadful cold day in January of 1985.

    I slammed the book shut, tossing it back into the drawer and shut it so that I could try to forget that day. But it was too late for me; the more details my brain began to uncover, the louder and wetter my sobs became. I walked to my door real quick, locking it to grant me my privacy before I flopped down onto the bed and buried my face into my pillow, letting out a few screams while I was crying. Eventually, this started to ruin my makeup and before I knew it, I got up to look at my pillow and saw stains of my mascara smeared onto it. I got up again to get my wipes out of my suitcase, wiping away any remaining makeup that was still on my face. Once I was finished, I threw the used wipe into my small trash bin and crawled back into bed.

    Thirty minutes had passed when I turned and saw that my alarm clock said it was 2:17 PM. I have stopped crying altogether, but I still felt upset and wasn’t ready to come out of my room just yet. Cory wasn’t on my mind anymore, but I was thinking about Mel again. However, it had nothing to do with her disappearance at all. These thoughts were different for once but they made me felt shameful as hell. I know that it wasn’t wrong of me to think about her in that way, but there were these other opposing thoughts in the back of my mind.  _ “Imagine what your mother would think,” _ they nagged.  _ “You should feel ashamed for thinking about that. What are doing thinking about girls anyway?!”  _ However, I completely ignored them and played along with my fantasies.

    For another good thirty minutes, I kept the door locked and laid on my bed while I was busy pleasuring myself. I didn’t take off all of my clothes — looking at my naked body would make me hate myself more — so I only took off my tights and underwear while I lifted up my short leather skirt to make the job easier. I didn’t feel anything at first, but once I felt the tension build up inside of me, I had to keep myself quiet so I wouldn’t disturb anyone in the house. When my climax released, I used my other hand to grab a small pillow to shove into my face as I let out a series of moans. As always, I felt so, so dirty, but I felt so, so good. 

    When I was through with it, I got up and headed to the bathroom that was connected to my room to wash my hands. I stripped off the rest of my clothes afterward, putting on some pajamas and proceeded to take a three-hour nap that afternoon.

* * *

 

    The past three weeks were the slowest weeks I’ve experienced in my life, but September 7th came and eventually, all five of us were on the road in Europe when our Volkswagen got off the car ferry. Ira and Bona were out cold, while Scottie and I were up front with our eyes on the road. Jules was right behind me, wide awake while they pointed out beautiful scenery along the way to Paris. The French countryside was like candy for my eyes; they weren’t like the scenes from any of Claude Monet’s paintings, but it was absolutely breathtaking and for once this week, I felt happy. 

    During the drive to Paris, I had a nice chat with Jules, who I found out was a history teacher when they lived in America.

    “What subject of history did you taught?” I inquired, carefully moving to the other seat so that I could see them.

    “I usually taught world history,” they told me. “I taught American history alongside for a few years, but it was a little difficult so I asked the principal then if I could go back to teaching only one subject.”

    “And they let you?”

    “Yup, up until I retired last year in May and moved to England.”

    “Ohh, so you started late, didn’t ya?”

    “Mhm,” I nodded. “I had to think about my purpose in life before I headed to college in the early 50s.”

    “They didn’t judge you at all?” I asked.

    “Nuh-uh. It’s strange to think about, but I did it. You just have to remember that life isn’t a race, that’s all.”

    Life isn’t a race. I wish that I heard that phrase when I was getting ready to graduate high school. Hell, I really needed that, because even though I didn’t realize it until now, I wasn’t ready for college then. I nearly flunked all of my courses my first year and almost dropped out, but I worked my way through it and still managed to hold onto a decent GPA. Still, I wished that my teachers, or even my own dad, told me that sooner. Well, I guess it’s true about what they say. You can’t always get what you want. Sometimes life might fucking suck, but you have to learn how to cope with it eventually.

    We entered Paris shortly when dusk was approaching, creating a vast and beautiful scene of illumination throughout the city. All white lights were lighting up the skies, but once we reached a certain part of the city, a flood of pink and red lights came through as we drove by to look for a parking spot. It was difficult to find one at first since we were stuck in traffic for a few minutes, but eventually, Scottie found the perfect spot and stole it just in time before some biker could park it. He yelled us a moment but ran away as soon as he saw Scottie’s face. It wasn’t that cold outside, but my body was still shivering for some reason.

    “Alright,” Scottie huffed, “we should get to the Red Corridor in no time. It’s right by this place.”

    “That building with the bright red lights, right?” Ira assumed. 

    “Yup,” he nodded. “I just hope Barnaby is there at the right time.”

    “What do you mean by that?”

    “Nevermind, let’s get going.”

    Without another word, we left the parking garage and headed to the Red Corridor, whatever that was. The name itself sounded kinda sketchy to me, so I assumed that Barnaby was living in a shitty apartment complex. But then again, Ira mentioned something about bright red lights. Does Barnaby work at a casino or a run-down movie theater? Of course, I was wrong, but we came across something obvious when I looked up at the neon sign and saw that it was a naked woman grinding against a pole. Even though I was a sexual person myself, I couldn’t help but cringe in embarrassment.

    “Oh, brother,” I sighed. “Lemme guess, he hangs out here?”

    “Y-Yeah,” Scottie replied, chuckling nervously. “It’s the only place where he can agree on to meet up.”

    “Well . . . I guess I can understand that.”

    “Let’s get this done and over with then.”

    Just as I expected, when we entered the strip club there were red lights all over the place and there were some groups here and there. It wasn’t incredibly busy on a Wednesday night thankfully, so I assumed that we would find Barnaby sooner than I thought. However, when I looked over to Scottie when he was walking up to some guy, he seemed to be anxious. I know he tended to get nervous when going to new places, but hasn’t he been to this strip club before? When the rest of the group followed him, apparently that’s not what he was worried about.

    “Hello,” Scottie greeted the man. “Have you seen Barnaby?”

    “Of course,” the man said, pointing to the left. “He’s in that room over there.” It wasn’t really a room, but a bigger area of the club more like.

    “Thank you so much! Have a good night.”

    However, that answer didn’t provide any relief at all. Instead, I heard a curse slip away under Scottie’s breath. Bona tried to ask him what was wrong, but Scottie ignored him and walked up to the railing where he shouted at a random stripper. Well, he wasn’t a random stripper anymore.

    “Goddammit, Barnaby!” he yelled at him, leaning over the rails a bit. “I thought you didn’t do Wednesdays anymore!”

    I got closer the rail and rested my arms on it, watching Barnaby slide his body down against the pole. I already knew that the man was a writer, but I didn’t expect him to be a stripper or this handsome. He was almost completely naked, but he wore what I assumed was a black lacy thong, which contrasted perfectly with his white, porcelain skin. Unlike most men, he was curvy and had the ideal hourglass figure and his breasts were nice and perky. A soft red glow reflected off of them, telling us that he was sweating a bit and probably has been working hard. His face was gorgeous too; his haircut was similar to David Sylvian’s, the one he had earlier in the decade. The color was blonde as well, but it was lighter and I remembered that Scottie said it was his natural hair color. Damn, he even looked a little like Sylvian now that I think about it.

    Of course, Scottie looked away from Barnaby and rested his head in his arms, trying to calm down.

    “Are ya alright, son?” Jules asked, coming to him as they rubbed his back to comfort him.

    “Oh, he is,” Barnaby assured them, walking down the stage to meet with us on the opposite side of the railing. “You’re just overdramatic, right Scottie?”

    “I didn’t want them to see you like this!” he shouted, lifting his head up.

    “Scottie, you and I both know that I’m not ashamed of this.”

    “Yeah, but it’s — it’s just embarrassing!”

    “I don’t think it’s weird,” Bona spoke up. “I mean, I feel embarrassed but that’s because I’ve never been to a strip club before.”

    “Me neither,” said Ira.

    “See?” Barnaby chuckled. “You’re just overreacting, as always.”

    From the look in his eyes, Scottie was already pissed off at Barnaby, but he sighed and muttered a “sorry” to him. 

    “It’s alright,” Barnaby giggled. “I’ll tell them that I’ll be off for the rest of the night and we can all talk about the case in my apartment, okay?”

    “Sounds good,” said Scottie, cracking a small smile. “Can I meet with you in private before we talk about that?”

    “Of course.”

    Once he got dressed, Barnaby left the club with us just as planned and got someone else to cover his shift. When we left the building, it turned out that his apartment complex was right across the street, either because he preferred to walk or he couldn’t drive. Either way, it only took us a matter of minutes to get to his apartment on the fourth and last floor.

    From the outside, it didn’t look like there was much room in his apartment, but once our group got inside, we were amazed by how spacious and tidy it was. The coffee table in the living room, on the other hand, was littered with a bunch of trash, such as crumpled-up napkins, scraps of fruit, a half-eaten donut, and . . . a condom? No, wait, it was a plastic candy wrapper.

    “Sorry about the mess!” Barnaby apologized. “I was munching on some snacks before work.”

    “It’s fine,” said Scottie. “You should see my office back home.”

    “It’s not  _ that _ bad,” I told him. “If anything, my room is a mess.”

    “Alright, alright,” Barnaby interrupted. “C’mon, Scottie. Let’s talk now.”

    “Upstairs, right?” Scottie guessed.

    “Yeah, in my office. Or room, I don’t care.”

    His apartment is two stories high? Is that why the fourth floor is taller than all of the other floors? Of course, it was. It was quite obvious to all of us by now.

    Ira, Bona, Jules, and I all sat in the living room to watch TV while Barnaby and Scottie were having their private meeting. We were all trying to watch  _ The Golden Girls _ but their private talk wasn’t so much of a talk. We heard nothing at first but as we continued to watch the show, I began to hear some vulgar and nasty moans coming from the ceiling. Jules and Ira didn’t react to the noises in the slightest, their eyes glued to the TV while Bona and I were blushing and cringing in embarrassment. I probably felt the most humiliation out of the group, considering that I was a very sexual person myself. The act upstairs didn’t even turn me on a bit; instead, it gave me second-hand embarrassment.

    “This is so gross,” I groaned, sinking my head into my hands. 

    “I know,” Bona muttered. “I usually don’t care but I wish they weren’t so damn loud.”

    Right after he said that I heard Barnaby let out a scream of pleasure from above. I couldn’t hear what he was saying because the ceiling muffled out the noise, but I was certain that he screamed out Scottie’s name a second later. I sighed, hoping that they were done with their show.

    I was proven right a few minutes later when I saw the two walk down the stairs. Barnaby was dressed up still, wearing a light blue button-up and some black dress pants. Scottie, on the other hand, wore a white tank top and grey sweatpants and white socks. This outfit didn’t help at all, considering how revealing it was for him since I could easily spot a hickey on his neck. I pretended that I didn’t notice it but I was well aware that their talk quickly escalated into something else.

    “Sorry for the wait, guys,” Barnaby apologized once again. “It was personal.”

    “Yeah, we heard the whole thing,” Jules said without hesitation. I was about to jump into the conversation, but I sat there in my seat pretending to not know what was going on. However, I couldn’t ignore the situation when I looked over to Barnaby and saw him smile nervously, crossing his arms over his chest.

    “I’m . . . I’m sorry,” he stuttered, still smiling. However, I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was about to have a breakdown.

    “I know you are, hun,” Jules said, getting up off the couch to go hug him. “Scottie and I know you can’t help it.”

    “I know but . . .” Barnaby paused for a moment to let out some tears. He hugged Jules back, resting his head on their shoulder and cried silently so that none of us had to see it. A minute later, he lifted his head up to speak again. “I can’t help but feel like shit every time I do this.”

    “It’s okay,” Scottie reassured him, placing his hand on his shoulder. “Just remember that I love you no matter what, okay?”

    Barnaby didn’t say a word back to Scottie and after he finished hugging Jules, he started walking up the stairs and told us that he needed to be alone for a bit. I wasn’t sure how long that was going to be, but I felt bad for him and wished that I could comfort him. However, I imagined that he could be facing the same circumstances as I am, so I left him be. Still, I asked Scottie about Barnaby’s situation to get a glimpse at his life.

    “What’s wrong with him?” I asked worriedly.

    Scottie sat down in the single chair near me, wiping a tear away before he could talk about the matter.

    “He’s still in a bad place right now,” he said, rubbing his eyes a bit. “I’ve been trying to help him, but I think I’m making it worse.”

    “I don’t think that’s what Ocean meant,” Bona told him. “Like, does he have a mental problem or somethin’?”

    Scottie sighed, turning around to see if Barnaby was still around. He wasn’t and was probably in his room by now, crying it all out. Jules sat back down while Scottie was preparing to tell us the truth.

    “I don’t think he’ll mind if I tell you all this,” he said, “but . . . Barnaby was repeatedly molested and assaulted while growing up.”

    “Oh, God!” Ira gasped, placing her hand on her chest. “That makes two of us . . .”

    “Three,” I croaked. “He must feel really hurt.”

    “I don’t doubt it,” Scottie continued. “He’s facing the same situation Isaac had.”

    “What does that mean?” I inquired, wondering how this trauma has affected Barnaby.

    “When it happened to him, Barnaby was convinced that no one would love or care about him . . . unless they had sex with him. Otherwise, he would feel unworthy, no matter how many friends loved him.”

    “Poor guy,” Bona sighed, nearly driven to tears. “Is he gettin’ any better?”

    “Yeah,” Scottie nodded. “He knows I love him, and Jules sees him as a grandson. But . . . “

    “But what?” Bona urged him to continue.

    “ . . . Every time we meet, he would ask for sex. I’ve said no a few times and gave him a kiss instead. It still makes him happy, but when we do go all the way . . . he feels like he’s the luckiest man in the whole world.”

    “But in the aftermath,” I join in, “he comes crashing down, right?”

    Scottie turned back to point at me, proving my point to be correct.

    “Exactly,” he said. “He’ll feel alright for a few minutes, but after I rest for a bit and open up my eyes again, I’ll see him crying on my chest. I try to tell him he’s not a horrible person or anything for sleeping with me, but all he can say is ‘sorry.’ It’s really sad . . .”

    Scottie dropped his head into his hands, starting to cry; he stopped, however, when I got up to hug him. He stopped hugging me shortly but was beginning to calm down as he took long, relaxing breaths.

    “I’m sorry,” he sniffled. “I just wish I could do better to help him.”

    “I know,” I sighed, “but you don’t have to do all the work, y’know?”

    “Huh?”

    He didn’t understand what I meant by that, but when I turned and saw Barnaby walk down the stairs, I started to walk toward him. I accidentally startled him at first when I came up to him, but when he got off the last step, I took another step to give him a great, big hug. Barnaby was still confused and was tempted to push me away, but I leaned over and gave him some reassurance.

    “I know how it feels,” I whispered. “I’ve been there, and I want you to know that you’re not alone.”

    At that moment, all the tension faded away and Barnaby hugged me in return. I frowned when I heard him weep again, but I then realized that they were tears of joy when he said this back to me:

    “Thank you,” he whispered. “That means a lot to me.”

    Ira got up a few seconds later, joining us to hug me and Barnaby and formed a group hug.

    “I’ve been there, too,” she told him. “I’m with you.”

    “We’re all here for you,” Jules said, getting up slowly to join the group hug. Bona followed and so did Scottie, completing the circle of hugs as we all held onto each other. We stood there for a good five minutes, giving all of the support not just to me and Ira, but to Barnaby as well. We were still going to have our struggles every now and then, but I wanted to help him get through this. At the same time, I hope that he could help us find Mel. 

    Hell, all six of us are going to have to work together at this point to achieve anything. None of us were going to get through this alone, and no one should have to go into the darkness alone.


	27. Mel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: mention of suicide.

    The sky’s blue as always. So blue. Too blue to be true. It’s dark like the primary blue you would see on art posters in school. The color of the sky was too dark that night already began to set on the beach. The sun was still up and about, way up in the sky. Yet, I could barely see anything ahead of me. Was it the moon instead? That, I wasn’t so sure about. I’ve been walking on the beach for awhile and lost track of time in the process. I don’t remember how I got here either. One day, I left Scott’s house to go jogging later that evening and was supposed to come back for dinner, but the rest is a blur. I might’ve fallen unconscious at some point, but when I woke up I found myself lying on the beach. 

    At first, I thought I would be able to find my way back to the house, but as time passed I grew worried and nearly panicked. I tried my best to stay calm for the rest of the time being, thinking happy thoughts to clear my mind. Nothing worked — as I expected — and I began to doubt that I would get off this beach. Despite feeling hopeless, I continued to walk along the sand in hopes of getting somewhere. However, when I became aware of my surroundings and surveyed the environment, I knew that this was a strange phenomenon of some sort. 

    Aside from the over-saturated blue skies, the sand was pearl white. I had never seen anything like it, so for a few hours, I only looked down at my feet as I walked on the sand. The shade of white made it unique, but I thought it was strange for its kind. When I would go to the beach, seashells and whatnot were usually buried or ingrained in the billion grains of sand. With this sand, there wasn’t a single shard of a seashell or a speck of garbage in it. I never thought I would say something like this, but the sight of it made me feel extremely uncomfortable. I know that this wasn’t natural at all, but I couldn’t stare it forever and ponder questions about its state of cleanliness. I shook it off and kept moving forward, as I’ve been doing since I got here.

    Just as I was about to collapse on the beach and take a quick nap, I came upon the hills. The grass was tall, reaching my ankle, but it was cut perfectly and the shade of green didn’t strain my eyes like the color of the sky and sand. This shade of green was light, but it was still visible and it appeared to be healthy. And when I looked up at the sky again as I followed a trail, the shade of blue was normal again, just as light as the grass. I thought it was a nice change for once, and for the first time since I got to this place, I felt a sense of peace until the question came upon me: what was this place?

    Continuing the search for an answer, I continued to walk down the trail while I began to inspect the area. As I continued to walk, the hills progressively got shorter and shorter, until they finally flattened and all I could see for miles and miles were huge grassy fields. It reminded me of the Midwest somehow, but I continued to walk, I was beginning to sense a strange feeling about this place. Once again, where was I? How long have I been walking? How much longer until I get out of this place?

    I kept on wondering, worrying about what was to come upon me during my travels. All of the sudden, I stopped in my tracks when I spotted a silhouette of a stranger up ahead. They weren’t too far from my current position, but I stood still and debated on whether or not to come up to them. I haven’t had any social interactions in a millennium, so I was tempted to run up to them and start a conversation. On the other hand, they could be a criminal for all I know. Either way, I’m going to put myself at risk, so I took off without further hesitation.

    “Hey!” I hollered. “Hey, you! I wanna ask you something!”

    I wasn’t sure if they were walking, but they stood still regardless as I was starting to catch up to them. Even as I stood right behind them, they didn’t move an inch and didn’t bother to turn around to have a quick look at me. I didn’t mind; I felt safe for once as well, knowing that this person was a woman. Her hair was cut short and it was curly, but I could tell that it was a woman judging by her sense of fashion and her figure. She had a slim build and was dressed in a jet-black jumpsuit. Or was she wearing slacks and a baggy sweater? Still, I sighed in relief at the fact that I wasn’t the only one roaming around this area.

    “So,” I huffed, stretching my arms outward, “what brings you to this place?” I crossed my arms over my head for a few seconds, smiling as I waited for a reply from the blonde stranger. Silence was the only answer for a couple of seconds, but she answered it eventually.

    “The state of your mind,” I heard her whisper under her breath. She thought I didn’t hear her, but I know that this answer didn’t seem quite right.

    “What about my mind?” I inquired, searching for more answers. “What is it that you want to know about?”

    She remained silent again, not giving me a proper response for a moment or two. I was tempted to turn around and run back to the beach for a second, but before I could move, she began to turn around slowly to reveal herself to me. When she faced me, I wasn’t quite sure how to feel anymore. The person that I was looking at was someone I knew from before, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. She wasn’t a relative or friend of mine, but I know that I’ve seen here somewhere before. Maybe she was a member of the church? 

    “Melanie,” she addressed me, her voice cold and neutral, “mind if you come a little closer?”

    Now I really wanted to run. Clearly, it didn’t seem like an option at this point, so I followed her instructions and walked a few steps toward her. Compared to my height, she was several inches shorter than me while I stood at an impressing height of six foot. I didn’t hate being tall, but it was awkward to tower over her. The woman stayed silent for another minute until she prompted to ask me this.

    “You were once acquainted with Reagan Maddox, weren’t you?”

    This question spooked me to no end. Regardless, I pretended she didn’t know every single little thing about my personal life.

    “Y-Yes,” I stuttered. “I was a member of his church, but I never agreed with his beliefs. I was just a kid.”

    “Of course, of course!” she exclaimed with enthusiasm. “But you still attended mass, isn’t that correct?”

    “My parents forced me to go until Father Maddox killed himself.”

    “Right, when he left!”

    Attending mass. Church member. Committing suicide, then leaving. The fact that this woman possibly knew everything about me was beyond terrifying, but one statement in particular stuck out to me.  _ “ . . . he left!” _ Was she referring to his suicide or were those conspiracy theories right all along?

    “Left?” I inquired confused out of my mind. “What could you possibly mean?”

    “I’ll address that later,” she said, literally brushing her shoulder as the breeze flew through her hair. “That only thing that matters is your mind.”

    “What about it?!” I demanded an answer. However, my only given response from the blonde woman was her chuckling.

    “So no one ever told you about it?” she assumed.

    “About what, lady?!” I was so,  _ so _ close to having a mental breakdown in the middle of this field. I couldn’t take this much longer, and if the woman dared to stall me any longer, I think I might just run back to the beach. 

    “You have a strong mind, Melanie,” she told me, finally being direct for once. “It loves that.”

    “Who’s ‘it?’” I demanded once again. “If you knew everything about me, you wouldn’t just stand here and torture me with riddles!”

    She finally snapped when she took her right hand and slapped me across the face. If she didn’t wear rings, I would’ve tolerated the pain, but I screamed when I realized how much pain I was in. I tried my best not to cry, but I failed when the woman brushed her fingers across my red and swollen cheek to catch some tears. My face was in so much pain, but at the same time, none of this felt real at all.

    “You’re a bit vulnerable to your emotions,” she stated, “but Lamia has told me that you have a strong sense of reason.”

    Lamia? The devil itself? Who would ever have thought that? I didn’t bother to answer my own question or ask the woman about anything, so I fell to the ground and sat there as I sobbed uncontrollably. Never in my life have I felt so homesick. I didn’t mean my literal house back in the States, but I had someone in mind.

    “What’s wrong, child?” the woman queried, crouching down to my eye level. 

    “This is a dream, right?!” I pleaded, grabbing her by the shoulders to shake some sense into her. “This place can’t be real, can it?!”

    “You want to know the truth? Even if it hurts?”

    “I don’t care!” I shouted, standing up to pace around. “I just wanna know where I am!”

     She paused for a second, trying to decide on how to tell me this truth without worsening my meltdown. Suddenly, she got up and spread out her arms to show the area around me.

    “This field is your mind, Melanie!” she declared. “Free, outgoing, and bright just like you!”

    At this point, she was spinning around in an endless circle, laughing and cheering as she looked up at the sky while I stood there trying to comprehend what was going on. This place wasn’t real, and so wasn’t the beach, but I know that this woman was someone I’ve seen in the real world and this didn’t feel like a dream. If this field was my mind, did the beach belong to Ocean?

    “Have you seen a person named Ocean Gore around here, then?” I asked nicely.

    “Oh, child!” she cackled. “That Gore kid is an emotional wreck compared to all the other fellas here! You all belong to Lamia!”

    That passage from the book flashed before my very eyes all of the sudden. 

 

_     According to the radical followers of Lamia, in order to construct the ultimate human sacrifice to unleash a new era of peace and tranquility, one must merge the strong minds of the church members, or former members now. Some present-day radical sub-cults have considered summoning the spirit of Lee himself to carry out the sacrifice. Without the vaporization of his instability, the sacrifice will result in a bloody mass murder of the physical bodies.  _

 

    Wherever I am, I’m asleep, but I’m also not. I’ve been kidnapped just like everyone else that has disappeared these past few months.

    “Why would you do this?!” I yelped. “You’re going to kill people!”

    “It’s been my job!” the blonde woman stated. “Just ask that stupid Madison girl!”

    I can’t believe this. Not only did she escape prison all those years ago, but she’s after me as well. Why me out of all people? Why was this going to happen now? Why?


	28. Bona

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: mentions of sexual abuse and transphobia.

    Barnaby eventually comes over to sit down with the rest of the group, after getting himself some coffee. Specifically, it was black coffee, the same type that Scott enjoyed drinking. This was probably among one of their likes and similarities. Aside from that, I wasn’t sure why he wanted to drink coffee at this hour. Maybe it was decaf, but I didn’t bother to ask him. I didn’t feel like getting into his business right now, in any shape or form. Only Ocean was brave enough to ask him about this habit of his.

    “Coffee?” they asked, turning away from the TV. “Why?”

    “It’s decaf,” he replied, proving my theory to be correct. “I can’t go a day without it.”

    “Just like my boy,” Jules chuckled, referring to Scott. “You two are alike for the smallest of reasons.”

    “I mean,” Barnaby continued, “I don’t think I could date someone exactly like me. I would probably go insane.”

    Barnaby brought the mug to his lips and carefully took a sip or two, almost coughing when he pulled it away. He placed it down on the coffee table, right next to a folder that laid on the surface. It wasn’t specifically labeled, but I bet that it held information relating to the search. 

    “Where was I?” he questioned himself before remembering it all of a sudden. “Oh, right! Yes, I saw Melanie a few weeks ago at the club.”

    “And Lev too, right?” Ocean questioned.

    “Yes, that’s why I have this file with me, in case you need to read up on her background.”

    “I would like to, please.”

    Without any further questions, Barnaby picks up the folder and hands it to Ocean while Ira and I scoot closer to her to get a glimpse at the document. We already knew the whole story behind Lev, but I think Ocean was the only one who never got the full story. Maddie died, but they never learned how. They opened the folder, revealing a document that showed a side photo of Lev and a profile of her criminal record. We got comfortable and read the profile, which stated the following:

 

_     While her motives behind her acts of terrorism remain unclear, Lev de Campo has been deemed one of the most dangerous and notorious criminals in recent history. Before the Woodstock Murder, Lev was primarily responsible for a few other attacks. In 1964, she set off an avalanche in Switzerland, which killed a little over thirty skiers. Three years later, she placed two bombs at UCLA and killed six people. This, of course, made headlines all over the world.  _

_     Finally, before she was captured and rightfully sent to prison, she attended Woodstock and attempted to plant bombs on the campsite. However, her plan was foiled when attendee Jules Malanzki disclosed these plans to security. In a fit of rage, Lev shot Madison Hiltz, a dear friend to Jules. The wounds were fatal, therefore, Madison passed away in the early morning on August 18, 1969. She was only nineteen years old at the time and had gotten together with her then-boyfriend Scott Marnon. _

_     Lev remained in prison for over a decade before breaking free in January of 1981. To this day, no one knows of her whereabouts since she constantly changes her identity and moves around. _

 

    “Damn,” said Ocean, tossing the folder back onto the table. “I can’t imagine such a thing.”

    “Oh, tell me about it,” Scott complained, sounding irritated.

    “Shut your mouth!” Barnaby ordered. “Did you forget why you’re here?”

    As expected, Scott didn’t answer and just huffed, crossing his arms in a moment of frustration. Barnaby sat there and gave him a sour look for a minute until he resumed the conversation.

    “Anyway, Lev was with Melanie when I saw her that night,” he stated. “She appeared to be in distress.”

    “Mel?” Ocean assumed.

    “Yes . . . I wasn’t quite sure what they were talking about, but she didn’t seem happy about it.”

    “I’m not happy about it either, with whatever is happening.” Ocean picked up the folder again and open it, looking down at the cropped black and white photo of Lev. “And you said they were heading to Russia?”

    “Yes,” he nodded. “To Moscow, from what I’ve heard.”

    “Well, let’s get going then,” Scott said, getting up off the couch already. “C’mon, what are you all waiting for?”

    “We can’t just go straight to Russia,” said Barnaby. “Don’t you think it would be a good idea to visit the rest of the countries?”

    “Why should we?” Scott sounded a bit defensive, but he seemed to be up for the challenge.

    “You’ll never know what else Lev has left behind. She’s been everywhere — except Spain and Portugal.”

    “Why?” I inquired, confused by Lev’s motives.

    “That I dunno,” Barnaby told me, finally standing up to pace around the room. “But as of now, we’ll have to search every corner of Europe to find clues of her hideout in Russia.”

    After walking around the entire room once, he walks up behind Scott and rests his elbow on Scott’s shoulder, giving him a promised look.

    “Sounds like a plan then?” Barnaby asked him, smiling afterward.

    “Yes, of course!” Scott accepted his word. “It’s better than what I had in mind.”

    “Alright, let’s go to bed then. We all got a big day ahead of us!”

    I was a bit concerned about where everyone was going to sleep tonight. Scott for sure was going to sleep with Barnaby since he had in a king-sized bed in his room. Ocean and Jules already claimed the guest room, which consisted of two separate twin-sized beds. As for Ira and I, we assumed that we were going to sleep on the two couches in the living room. Just to be certain, I asked Barnaby where we were going to sleep for the night.

    “Not on the couch that’s for sure,” he said, walking over to the coffee table. He crouched down and held onto the edges of the table, pushing force on it to move it away from the center. “Do one of you mind giving me a hand?”

    “I’ll help,” Ira said. She walked to the opposite side of the table and began to pull on it; eventually, she and Barnaby lifted the table up and walked over to one side of the TV to place it there against the wall. With that done, Barnaby went over to the couch and began to take the cushions off to reveal a pullout bed.

    “You two don’t mind sleeping on a pullout, do you?” he asked us. 

    “I don’t,” I replied. “I dunno about Ira though.”

    “It’ll be fine,” she told me. “At least I don’t have to sleep on the couch tonight.”

    When Barnaby pulls the bed out and sets it down, the mattress already had a sheet attached to it and the blankets were tucked in. However, he excused himself to fetch a few pillows for us. When he came back, he held four pillows in his arms and tossed them onto the bed.

    “Alright, I think that’s everything,” he assumed, extending his right arm to show off the bed. “Any special requests?”

    “Nah,” I shook my head. “I still gotta take my meds, but we should be fine.”

    “Sounds great! See you in the morning then.”

    Barnaby walked back upstairs and returned to his room. Ira fell asleep right away once she changed into her pajamas and got into bed. After I took my sleep medication and changed, I crawled into bed and fell into a deep slumber . . . for three hours. Despite me taking my medication regularly, I woke up in the middle of the night and was pissed about it. To top it all off, there were no noises or disturbances of any kind bothering me to have awoken me. Instead of trying to go back to sleep, I laid there in the dark and looked up at the ceiling as I thought about the journey ahead of us.

    I stopped thinking about it eventually when the thought of going to Russia made me physically sick. I didn’t hate the Russian people or anything like that, but the thought of actually being in Russia made me feel sick for no reason whatsoever. Not even the nuclear weapons they kept scared me, or Lev. Something else frightened me as if I had already experienced this before, but I wasn’t sure what there was to come ahead of us.

    When I finally grew tired again, I turned to my side and tried to go back to sleep. Obviously, it didn’t work, so I laid there feeling frustrated. I didn’t even bother to close my eyes and count sheep, but when I heard someone coming out of their room, I pulled the covers up a bit and pretended to be asleep. I didn’t know who was up at this hour, but I heard them turn on a light or two as they walked by the couch. When I thought the coast was clear, I sat up and looked around to see where they went. I turned my head toward the left direction and saw a light emerging from the kitchen. I wasn’t really surprised by it; everyone craves a late-night snack every once in a while, so I didn’t see anything wrong with it. I was curious to know who was up at this hour though, so I carefully got out of bed and walked into the kitchen. However, they weren’t grabbing a snack.

    Barnaby stood near a counter, on the phone with whoever he was arguing with. He did have something to munch on, but he was eating a batch of strawberries to cope with his frustration.

    “You can go a few months without my ass!” he bickered, pausing for a bit as he listened to whoever was at the end of the line. “But don’t cha have a girlfriend? . . . Well, just ‘cause you have a big dick doesn’t mean you gotta act like one!”

    He paused again for another moment, listening to what the caller had to say. I’m sure what he was telling Barnaby pissed him off because when I glanced at his hand again, he clenched his fist and squished the unbitten strawberry. A trail of juice spilled and began to travel down his arm, but he didn’t care and continued to crush the fruit to death.

    “No, no!” he nearly screamed. “You’re just gonna rip me off again like you’ve always had! I’ve had it with you!”

    He fell silent again and this time he dug his fingers into the batch of strawberries, clenching onto them in no time and squished them like crazy, creating a faint and artificial pool of blood from the fruit. He held some of the fruit in his hands, squishing them beyond recognition.

    “Is that all you care about?!” he finally yelled. “Huh?! Is my pussy all you care about?! I’m not your personal freak show, Thomas! I’m a man, and I actually have feelings and empathy unlike you!”

    Barnaby stopped talking again, hearing what the man Thomas had to say even though he was fed up with him. I assumed that Thomas was one of his clients, which meant that he did sex work of some kind. It didn’t surprise me much since I saw him pole dancing at the club hours ago.

    “I don’t care honestly!” Barnaby screeched, slamming his fist into the pile of strawberries. “If you wanna kill me, go ahead! I’ve been killed once and I came back, so good luck with that you pathetic pig!”

    After the outburst, he slammed the phone down and leaned toward the counter, placing his forehead in his free hand as he burst into tears. I was tempted to give him a hug at first, but then I realized it wouldn’t be such a good idea. Instead, I kept my distance and called out to him.

    “B-Barnaby?” I spoke softly. “Are you alright?”

    He turned around in a flash and was surprised to see that I was up. Of course, he was crying, so he couldn’t lie to me.

    “No,” he moaned, wiping a tear away with his clean hand. “I-I’m sorry you had to see that. I hate being violent, but . . . God, he was my worst client.”

    “I-It’s alright,” I tried to reassure him, even though I’ve never been in that position before myself. “But you don’t owe him anything. He was probably nothing compared to you.”

    Barnaby tried to smile, but it was no use and instead, he broke down again and walked over to the sink to wash his hands. He tried to calm down by taking slow, deep breaths, but streams of tears still traveled down his cheeks while he was cleaning up.

    “I know it seems stupid,” he wept, “but I feel like no one sees me as a real man — or person.”

    “Scott and Jules do,” I replied. “They both do.”

    “I know that,” he said, turning the faucet off and shaking his hands dry, “but I always feel like everyone else sees me as some sort of freak. And I just feel so alone in this world.”

    Barnaby rested his face in his hands, standing in front of the sink as he continued to cry. I wanted to give him some privacy and let him handle it on his own, but I knew that I couldn’t just walk away. So, I searched through the cabinets until I found a pack of Marlboro cigarettes and handed it to him. Of course, he didn’t see me at first; in order to get his attention, I placed my free hand on one of his shoulders. He stopped crying all of the sudden and turned to see what I wanted, but was surprised when he saw the pack in my hand.

    “I thought you would need these,” I said. “Do you wanna go sit out on the balcony and talk it out?”

    He didn’t peep a word, but he nodded and slowly took the pack of cigarettes out of my hand. Though he knew where the balcony was, he allowed me to lead the way so he could focus on getting his thoughts together. To lighten the mood, I turned the balcony light on but was soon taken away by the scenery ahead of us.

    I wasn’t quite sure if Barnaby rented this apartment solely for the purpose of the scenic view, but regardless, it took my breath away. In front of us for miles and miles, the city of Paris — and the Eiffel Tower — was lit up by a gorgeous field of bright lights. There were patches of colorful lights here and there, and some lights were out at some buildings and other apartment complexes. Aside from the smaller buildings, I was amazed by the sight of the Eiffel Tower. Never in my life would I have thought of visiting Paris one day, but here I was, standing on a balcony with the city of Paris before me as I stood in awe. Though I know for certain that I was going to leave Paris tomorrow, this sight was perfect as it was. For another few seconds, I stood there and observed the tower in all its glory, standing there as it was lit up by a golden illumination of lights.

    “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Barnaby sniffled, taking a seat at the small glass table.

    “Yeah,” I sighed. “I wish Ira could see this.”

    “Well, I can,” I heard a woman’s voice. As I expected, I turned and saw Ira, who leaned against the door frame, smiling. “What’s up?”

    “Barnaby wants to talk about his problems,” I told her. “I thought I could help.”

    “Yeah, I woke up when I heard him yelling.”

    “I’m sorry,” Barnaby apologized. “I didn’t mean to.”

    “It’s alright,” said Ira. “Besides, I want to make sure that you’ll be okay.”

    “Thank you.”

    Right away, Ira and I took a seat to join Barnaby, who needed a minute to light up his cigarette. After a few clicks of his lighter, he finally lit the tip and began smoking. When a minute of silence passed, he finally opened up.

    “Alright,” he sighed. “I dunno if Scottie already told you this or not, but when I was young . . . a couple of older men messed with me.”

    “He did,” Ira said remorsefully. “How did you handle it? Did you fight back or anything?”

    “Well . . .” he paused for another moment, trying to think as he brought the cigarette back to his mouth, inhaling and then exhaling a puff of smoke. “The funny thing is that I didn’t. I was young and dumb. I . . . I thought it was normal!”

    “But you eventually learned it wasn’t,” I finished his thought. “What did you do when you found out?”

    “Nothing at first. I tried to shake it off, but as I kept thinking about it, I eventually had a breakdown. I blamed myself.”

    “I did too,” Ira lamented. “I’m lucky to be alive though.”

    “Me too,” Barnaby replied. “But sometimes I feel like my existence isn’t valuable to anyone . . . just ‘cause I have a different body.”

    “I can relate,” I whimpered. “The last time I ever saw my dad, I told him I wasn’t a girl. He was unpredictable, so I didn’t know what to expect. But when I told him, he looked at me as if I were some sort of fucking alien.”

    “Yeah, I’ve gotten that look at work before . . . I’ve gotten used to it.”

    “I can’t imagine,” Ira frowned. “I’m thankful that hasn’t happened to me, but hearing about this just makes me sick to my stomach.”

    “It’s horrible . . . but you two see me as a man, right? And a human being?”

    “‘Course we do,” I said. “We’re just like you and Scott, how couldn’t we?”

    “I dunno,” he sighed, bringing his cigarette up to his mouth again for another smoke. “I just need reassurance, y’know?”

    “We understand,” Ira replied. “You’re a wonderful man. And like you told that guy on the phone, you have feelings. If it makes you feel better, I think you’re beautiful too.”

    Barnaby smiled and blushed, trying to cover his cheeks to hide his embarrassment. However, he moved his hand to talk.

    “You really mean it?” he asked. 

    “Yes!” Ira giggled. “And if anyone is messing with you, they don’t deserve you.”

    “Th-Thanks.”

    “Of course! I’m going to get some water so I’ll be right back.” 

    Ira got up and left the balcony to go fetch some water, leaving me alone with Barnaby. While it was clear that he felt better now, something that he said earlier had been on my mind for the past few minutes. _"_ _ I’ve been killed once and I came back . . .” _ At first, I thought it was a metaphor of some kind that he just said to threaten his client, but then I remembered his letter that Ira and I found in the park a few weeks ago.  _ “And yes, I’m almost finished with that book about the encounter back in March.”  _ Killed. Encounter. Came back. It exactly sounded like Lee’s story.

    When Barnaby finished puffing out another cloud of smoke, I asked him a risky question.

    “Did you die?” I inquired, uncertain how he would react.

    “Hm?” he mumbled.

    “Did you? You told that guy that you died and came back.”

    “I was exaggerating. I wanted to scare him away.”

    “What happened back in March, though? You mentioned something in that letter you wrote a couple weeks ago.”

    Instead of giving me an answer, Barnaby gave me a sour look and put his cigarette out by rubbing the tip against the ashtray. When he was through with it, he got up and started to head inside.

    “Barnaby!” I whispered. “I —”

    “That’s something for another day,” he muttered. “Just leave me alone.”

    “But I —”

    “I’m going to bed now!”

    With that, he was gone in no time. A few seconds later, Ira came back out and saw that Barnaby had disappeared.

    “Did he went to bed?” she asked of his whereabouts.

    “Yeah,” I nodded. “He was getting tired.”

    “I am too, but I want to stay out for another minute.”

    Ira walked up to the rail, resting her arms on it and observed the scene ahead of her. I joined and stood by her, admiring the lights of Paris. I nearly cried when I remembered how beautiful the scenery was, but when I turned and looked at Ira, I was amazed. The golden lights of the city highlighted her features perfectly and she had that smile that I couldn’t get enough of. All of the sudden, I forgot about the city and remembered that I was dating the most beautiful woman in the world. 

    “It’s so beautiful,” she whispered.

    “But not as beautiful as you,” I complimented. 

    Her smile grew wider and she blushed, but she appreciated the comment.

    “I love you!” she gushed.

    I smiled back, wrapping my arms around her to pull her into a hug. We stood like this for a minute, allowing myself to feel security and happiness. We had these moments quite often, but this one . . . it felt special for once. When we finished hugging, I gave Ira some personal space. She didn’t mind my company, however, and cupped my face with her hands and brought my lips to hers. I closed the space between us again, wrapping my arms around her waist as she wrapped hers around my neck. Moments of peace like this were something I cherished and wanted them to last forever.

    Ira pulled away for a second to catch her breath, then brought her lips back to mine. I savored the moment for as long as I could, thinking about how I was the luckiest man in the world. I felt so, so lucky because there was no one else I would rather have than her. Her presence brought me so much joy that this moment was bound to make me explode with happiness! 

    Sadly, this came to an end. I know that it wasn’t the end of the world, but I couldn’t help but feel a bit sad about it ending. Then again, the both of us needed to go to bed. We had a big day ahead of us and we needed all the shut-eye we could get.

    Before the two of us could separate and head to bed, I gave Ira one more kiss on the cheek and smiled.

    “I love you, too,” I cooed. 


	29. Ocean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: implied sexual content.

    Six of us were on the road now in hopes of finding Mel somewhere in Moscow. While it was deemed as our final destination, we had other cities and countries to focus on before we could go find Lev’s hideout. I don’t mind the journey at all, but I constantly worry that we might not make it to her in time. I don’t intend to put any blame on Scottie, but sometimes he thinks we have all the time in the world to save Mel. Well, we might, but one day we might be too late by a few minutes, hours, or even days!

    That night I tried my best not to think about it, tried to not let my anxiety get the best of me. At first, I turned the night lamp on to read _The War of the Worlds_ , but that didn’t help at all. Even though it was one of my favorite novels, it made me terribly anxious for no reason. Apocalyptic scenarios and works of any kind didn’t phase me, but something about that book gave me the creeps. When I finished reading the first chapter again, I put the book back into my bag and zipped it up.

    Since reading wasn’t gonna get me anywhere, I tried to trick myself into falling asleep again, this time counting sheep. The highest I counted to that night was around two hundred, and while it did bore me to death, my brain refused to let me fall asleep. This annoyed the shit outta me.

    One of my final options was to jack off and fall asleep right after, but I didn’t want to take the risk. Even if Jules was dead asleep, doing it while they were in the room would just feel too wrong. This left me no choice but to write my thoughts and feelings down in my journal. Though I don’t sound so enthusiastic about it, I actually enjoy writing in my journal and think it’s my healthiest coping mechanism. I try my best to keep up with it, but I always forget to update it thanks to my shitty ass memory.

    Like I promised myself, I opened my bag again and grabbed my journal and a black pen to write with. I turned the lamp on again and crawled into bed, sitting up so that I can write decently in my journal. After I drew a few scribbles in the corner of the page to test the ink, I began jotting down my thoughts in a frenzy, hoping that all of this won’t matter in the near future.

 

_09/07/1988_

 

_Please, God, give her back to me. I dunno what I’ve done to deserve this. Please let Mel come back to me. My life can’t go on without her — she’s my everything, even though she doesn’t know it yet. I love her so much. I dunno what I’ll do without her, which is something I dunno about and that I don’t wanna find out. Please, God, bring her back to me. I might not totally believe in you, but I know you can work a miracle out. Please, PLEASE do something. All I want is for her to come back home to us safe and sound._

_I love her so much. I dunno if she feels the same about me, but if I ever get the chance to see her again, I wanna tell her how much I love her. I might chicken out, but it’s worth a shot. Even if it doesn’t work out, we’ll always be friends no matter what happens._

 

    I was gonna go on and write some more, but when I tried to write something down, the tip of my pen tore through a patch of the paper. I felt angry for a second, but when I looked down again, I saw that there were tear stains on the paper and just realized that I was crying. As always, I thought it was stupid of me to cry again. But I’m not my mom; why was I letting her influence control how I feel? I’m nearly twenty-four, dammit. I can decide how to cope with my own feelings.

    After I was done writing in my journal, I insert it back into my bag but left it unzipped since I was too tired to do anything else. For the first time in a long, long time, I buried my face into my pillow and began sobbing my heart out until I fell asleep. I felt like utter shit, but I did the right thing that night. Instead of bottling up my emotions like always, I let it all go. Crying always gave me a headache, but that pain didn’t hurt as much.

* * *

 

    “Hey,” someone, or rather a man, whispered to me while he gently shook me awake. “Wake up.”

    “Why should I?” I groaned, trying to pull more covers over me. The crying helped me out emotionally, but I didn’t wanna get outta bed.

    “I made pancakes for breakfast,” the man said.

    I turned and saw Barnaby, who was already dressed obviously. Though he was probably short for his height, he still stood over me while he placed his hands on his hips. I noticed that he wasn’t wearing any makeup, but it didn’t bother me much since he was naturally handsome. Underneath the white apron, he wore a light blue sweater with three-quarter sleeves and a pair of skinny jeans, which he had the ends rolled up.

    Finally, I sat up and stretched my arms as far as I could, trying to wake up like Barnaby asked me to.

    “What kind are they?” I asked him about the pancakes.

    “Strawberry,” he replied. “I didn’t make a lot though. Only Ira and Bona asked while Scottie and Jules settled on donuts and coffee.”

    “Of course,” I said. “It’s okay, I’ll be fine. I can only eat three before I get sick of it.”

    “Aight, I’ll let you get ready now. See ya down there.”

    “Bye.”

    I took my pajamas off once Barnaby left the room and rummaged through my suitcase for the right outfit. I didn’t know what the weather was like outside, but I figured I would wear whatever I want since we’re gonna spend most of the day on the road. Without a second thought, I put on a pair of black fishnet stockings, a leather mini skirt, a white tank top, a sleeveless leather vest, and combat boots to go with my stockings. Once I tucked the tank top into my skirt, I was almost ready to head out. Along with brushing my hair and teeth, putting on my makeup was a priority. However, since I felt lazier than usual, I only did my eyebrows and put on some mascara. My eyes felt naked without having eyeliner on, but I know that the world wasn’t gonna end if I go one day without eyeliner. Still, it bugged the shit outta me.

    When I finished walking downstairs and arrived in the living room, and I turned to look at the analog clock on the wall and saw that it was nine o’clock. I felt like I woke up late, but it was still bright and early. When I walked into the dining room and kitchen, however, everyone was finished with their breakfast.

    “Hey,” Scottie called to Barnaby. “I’m gonna head up and grab my laundry.”

    “Aight,” said Barnaby.

    “We’ll go get our stuff, too,” Ira replied. “Thanks for reminding us!”

    Everyone was ready but me. I know it wasn’t my fault that I forgot to set the alarm, but I couldn’t help but feel like I was gonna drag everyone behind schedule. My stomach was growling like crazy, but I know that if I took all of my time in the world in the eat, we would leave later than usual. And leaving late probably means that we won’t get to Mel and time, which means she might wind up dead at our feet.

    “I’ll go ahead and grab my stuff too!” I said cheerfully, starting to turn away. However, someone’s hand landed on my shoulder and stopped me.

    “Barnaby told me that you haven’t eaten yet,” Scottie told me, his voice filled with worry. “You should go eat now.”

    “But I don’t want to,” I protested, turning to face him and swept his hand off my shoulder. “I’ll just waste time!”

    “It’s okay, Ocean. None of us will be mad if we have to wait.”

    “I’m not worried about that!” I nearly raised my voice. “I’m worried about Mel.”

    “Oh, c’mon,” Scottie groaned. “We have all the time in the world. She’ll be fine, I promise. Now c’mon, you have to eat something.”

    Scottie tried to grab hold of my arm and lead me to the kitchen, but I gasped and yanked it from his grasp.

    “No!” I yelled, pushing him against the edge of the counter. “I don’t wanna eat!”

    I felt confident for a moment and was ready to go back upstairs and retrieve my stuff, but I realized what I have just done. While I didn’t seriously hurt him, I had pushed Scottie against the counter and now he was sitting on the floor in pain. Eventually, he got back up and started rubbing his back. _“Now you’ve fucked up,"_ my thoughts nagged. I stood there, hiding my face in my hands as I started to cry again for the second time in twenty-four hours.

    “Oh, no, oh no,” Scottie began to panic. “Please don’t cry, I know you didn’t mean to. Plea —”

    “Leave them alone, Scottie,” I heard Barnaby told him off. “You and the others get ready, I’ll take care of this.”

    “But —”

    “Just fuckin’ go already!”

    When I drew my hands away and finally looked up again, Barnaby stood in front of me again but wasn’t wearing the cooking apron anymore. He crossed his arms but his face was filled with concern.

    “Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked me nicely.

    I was too upset to speak, but I nodded in reply and followed him. We sat down next to each other at the dining table, Barnaby taking his time to decide how to handle this. A few more minutes passed and I was starting to calm down a bit, and Barnaby finally gathered the courage to start the conversation.

    “I’m sorry if you already said this, but why didn’t you want to eat?” he questioned me. I know he probably didn’t hear the full story, but I already felt frustrated.

    “I didn’t wanna waste time,” I croaked. “I’m worried we might not save Mel in time.”

    “We’re all worried,” he said, trying to grant me some reassurance. “But we’ll save her, I promise. Besides, it’s not the end of the world if you don’t eat my pancakes.”

    “I know, but I’m so upset because I hurt Scottie,” I said, wiping a few tears away. “I know I didn’t mean to, but I hurt him. Mel would be so pissed if she saw that.”

    “He knows you didn’t mean to, Ocean. He even said it himself, didn’t he?”

    “Y-Yeah?”

    “See? Nothin’ to worry about. But of course, if you still feel bad, you can still apologize to him.”

    “I-I can?”

    “Of course! Listen, we make mistakes, but we’ll always find a way to fix them. It’s part of being human.”

    He was right. It was alright for me to feel sad. Pushing and hurting Scottie was definitely a mistake, but they both knew that I didn’t intend to do it. Still, I wanted to apologize later to make things even between us. Other than that, I felt a lot better now thanks to Barnaby.

    “C’mon,” he said, getting up out of his seat. “Let’s get goin’ now. Also, does McDonald’s sound alright with you?”

    “Yeah, why?” I asked, getting up and then pushing my chair in.

    “Since we both haven’t eaten yet, I’ll get some breakfast from them while on the way to Switzerland.”

    “Really? Thanks. I owe you one.”

    Barnaby didn’t say anything but only smiled back at me. Aside from the shitty start-off and the constant fear of losing Mel, I know that this was gonna be an excellent adventure.

* * *

 

    Just like I had predicted earlier that morning, we were on the road for most of the day. Well, not as long as I previously thought, but we didn’t get to Zürich, Switzerland until shortly after three that day. Despite the long drive there, the scenery outside my window made the trip bearable.

    For the majority of the ride to Zürich, I sat there in my seat and watched the scenery of the French countryside rushing past me, composed of beautiful and breathtaking scenes that I will never see again in my lifetime. I couldn’t remember who was driving us to Zürich on this trip — I think it was either Scottie or Ira — but whoever was driving the van, they drove us through some form of paradise. We drove over the hills, through the faint golden fields in the countryside, and saw some mountains pop up here and there along the way. Everything in nature was perfect and appeared to be untouched by industrialization, but one of the simplest but most important things in nature were missing: color.

    Along the fields, I only spotted flashes of green and gold brown, and occasionally I saw roses here and there, but there was nothing else to be seen. But eventually, the scenery transformed and appeared to be something that I swore I saw in a dream once.

    For miles and miles, for as far as my eyes could see, fields of lavender spread themselves across the landscape and it was absolutely stunning. Like I stated before, this was probably a sight I was only going to witness once in my life and never see again. There are going to be many places like this and while it might leave a sad, bitter taste in my mouth, I still smile because I realized how lucky I was to see all of this. Of course, not under the best circumstances, but these scenes reminded me how much beauty there is in the world. It might not make up for all the ugliness of society, but it serves as an escape from reality. That’s something I desire every single day.

    Despite the glorious scenes of nature that France and Switzerland brought to us, our time in Switzerland was a boring one. Even the cities we stayed at for the first few days — Zürich and Bern — didn’t have anything exciting going on at the time. But as much as we wanted to leave the country already, Scottie and I decided that it was best to stay in Switzerland for a few days to search for clues about the kidnappings. So, we remained in the country from September 8th to the 12th, about five days. On the last night before we left the next morning, I learned something new about Bona.

    Just when I thought I knew everything about him, there was one little secret that I wasn’t quite aware of. Well, I wouldn’t consider it a secret, but he was desperate to keep this to himself. But if I were in his shoes, I probably would’ve done the same thing and kept it a secret.

    Though we didn’t have to leave until ten o’clock the next morning, we were up around midnight when I went with Bona to go get a snack from the vending machine on our floor. We also bought drinks for ourselves — all waters. I bought two bottles of water because, for whatever reason, I always get extremely thirsty at night. As for Bona, that guy could go without a drink for God knows how long. I didn’t think it was unusual of him to get water at this hour though; the whole group didn’t drink anything for the whole day. Not only was he dehydrated like hell, he needed the water for something else.

    When we returned to our room, I stripped my clothes off and kept my underwear on, putting on an oversized shirt to wear as my pajamas for the night. Bona did the same and wore his boxer briefs and a sports bra of some kind. I don’t know why he wore it, but I didn’t really care about it. While I laid on my bed watching a shitty late-night Swiss TV program, Bona was going through his toiletries bag until he produced a medicine bottle in his hand. I turned my head in his direction to see what the commotion was about; when he pried the bottle open and peeked inside, he sighed and dropped the small bottle. He grabbed his water off his nightstand and got up, walking to the bathroom.

    “Oh, man,” he muttered under his breath, shutting the bathroom door right after.

    Judging by the tone of his voice, he sounded worried about his medication. Maybe he accidentally grabbed the wrong bottle? No, that can’t be it. I know for a fact that he took medication for his insomnia, but he wasn’t getting a refill until tomorrow. Not sure what the other prescription was for, I left my bed and walked to the other side of the room to search for the empty bottle. I crouched down and grazed my hands over the carpet until one of them bumped into the bottle. It started rolling and almost ran under the bed, but I caught it just in time.

    Getting up off the ground, I sat on Bona’s bed and slowly turned the bottle around, trying to use the light from the TV to read the label. When it was bright enough for me to see, I saw that one of the words that I read were “antipsychotics.” The name of the medication was some brand I have never heard of, but I know that you wouldn’t take these pills for depression or anything like that. What else was wrong with him?

    “What are ya doin’?” I heard his voice, jumping up in surprise when I saw that he was in front of me. He didn’t appear to be mad at me, but his face was filled with concern when he saw that I dropped the bottle.

    “I-I’m sorry!” I stuttered. “Please don’t be mad at me!”

    At first, he said nothing to me while grabbed the bottle and looked down at in his hand, his face expressing dismay. He then shifted his attention to me, but then looked back down to the floor and held his face with one hand. When I saw that he was crying, I immediately felt guilty for my actions.

    “I know what you’re thinkin’,” he said glumly, placing the bottle on the nightstand. “You think I’m crazy now, don’t cha?”

    “No?!” I blurted. “Look, I dunno what those are for anyway. But there’s something else wrong with ya, right?”

    Bona nodded, taking a seat next to me on his bed while he laid his face in both his hands. Whether he was trying to think hard or was trying to cope with this, he was having a hard time regardless. Finally, after a minute of silence, he clasped his hands together and laid them on his lap while he raised his head up and faced me.

    “I was gonna talk to you about this eventually,” he told me. “But I was scared to.”

    “You shouldn’t be,” I tried to reassure him. “I won’t judge, I promise.”

    “You swear?”

    “I do.”

    Again, silence prevailed and Bona continued to think but he finally stopped crying. Like he just told me, he was going to tell me this secret of his to me eventually, but I guess he never thought about how he was going to say it. I didn’t mind though, because I’ve been there.

    “Well . . .” he continued, his voice filled with sorrow. “I’ve already told you about my dad, right?”

    “Yeah,” I nodded. “Good thing he’s dead now.”

    “But the long-term effects aren’t gonna go away,” he said. “They’re gonna stick with me until I die.”

    “What do you mean?” I asked, deeply concerned about him. He took another moment to gather his thoughts again, but he didn’t take long to remember what happened to him.

    “Of course, you already know that I went to therapy,” he recapped. “But later, I went to see a psychiatrist. We did all sorts of tests and surveys and shit like that.”

    “And then they tell you what they found,” I finished his thoughts. “I’ve been through that, but I was diagnosed with autism. Depression too, but that was already obvious to me.”

    “Lucky you,” he chuckled. “My condition wasn’t until they told me my diagnosis. That’s when I was like ‘oh!’”

    “Well, what do you have?”

    Another moment of silence passed, but Bona was quick and direct about his mysterious illness, one that wasn’t much of a mystery anymore.

    “I’m schizophrenic . . . “ he sighed, resting the right side of his face in his hand. “Hallucinations, paranoia, disorganized thoughts, you name it.”

    “Really?” I questioned, a bit surprised by this revelation. “I would’ve never thought.”

    “Well, duh!” he said, laughing a bit. “I take medication, so it isn’t quite obvious. I still have my bad days though, just like everyone else.”

    I nodded in agreement because it was true. By human nature, we still had our bad days, but eventually, we get through them somehow. And despite our illnesses, we won’t let our worst define our best.

    “I can relate to that,” I said. “When I told some people in the past that I had depression, they were all like, ‘But you’re so happy!’ Like duh! I take my medication when I’m supposed to.”

    “Exactly!” he exclaimed, smiling when he knew that I understood. “They expect you to get to better, but at the same time, they just . . . expect you to show your symptoms all the time. It doesn’t make sense.”

    “Yeah, it definitely doesn’t.”

    We paused the conversation right there, not knowing what to say. I know that we didn’t necessarily have to continue it, but I feel like there was something I still needed to say. I tried my best to remember what it was, but my memory failed to capture it. However, Bona took over the conversation.

    “Well,” he continued, “thank you for listening to me and not being judgmental. I feel a lot better now.”

    “Why would I judge you?” I asked. “You’re still a good friend of mine. Just because you’re ill that doesn’t mean my opinion of you has changed.”

    “You . . . you really mean that?” Bona inquired, making sure I was serious about this.

    “Of course!” I smiled. “You’re an amazing artist and writer! And you’re so passionate about your interests and all of that.”

    “Wow, thank you! That’s so nice of you!”

    “Of course! And have you ever thought about directing movies?”

    “Nah,” he shook his head. “Why’d you ask?”

    “Some of the short stories you’ve shown me are incredible,” I complimented. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you made a movie based on one of them.”

* * *

 

    After we ended our conversation that night, Bona and I went to bed at one o’clock in the morning. Despite not taking his sleeping medication that night, he slept well like a baby and the both of us woke up at eight. I felt like a truck just ran me over while he was up and about, persuading me to get outta bed and get ready. I was annoyed, but I didn’t want the group to run late all because of me. Surprisingly, I managed to be on time. I got dressed and put on my makeup within the first hour of being awake, and before we all left the hotel, I managed to pack up all my things and went down to grab breakfast. I figured I didn’t have time to sit down and eat, so I grabbed one of those miniature boxes of cereal and a bagel. Good enough.

    We left Bern, Switzerland at ten o’clock in the morning just like Scottie planned. I don’t know how we left just in time; Scottie clearly has never traveled around Europe before, but I figured that since he’s traveled quite a bit, he probably knows what he’s doing. Maybe. When we stopped for lunch near the Switzerland-Italy border, I sat with Scottie and Jules since he asked for two tables to seat our whole group. As always, I was shy and kept to myself while they did most of the talking. And then, all of the sudden, I remembered what I was going to ask Scottie this morning. I forgot about it, but then it just came back to me.

    “Scottie?” I asked for his attention, interrupting the conversation.

    “Yes?” he responded.

    “How are so good at mapping this stuff out? I mean, we’re always on time.”

    “Oh, that?”

    He paused for a moment, tapping his fingers on the marble table as he thought about what to say.

    “I actually mapped out the routes,” Jules spoke up. “Scottie does all the driving.”

    “Yeah,” he nodded, still tapping his index finger. “Jules has been to more places than I have honestly.”

    “Heh, you really think so? You have friends all over the world, son.”

    “I mean . . . yeah, but that’s because I always get lost.”

    Jules let out a chuckle, patting Scottie on the back while he blushed with embarrassment. I know that it sucks to get lost in a city you’ve never been to before, but at least he has a friend like Jules to help him — to help us — get around.

    After lunch, we hit the road once again and kept driving until we reached the city of Milan, Italy. I thought I’ve seen all of the world’s beauty when we were driving in France a few days ago, but I turned out to be wrong. By far, Milan was gorgeous, too gorgeous. Like any other major city, hundreds and hundreds of people filled the streets of Milan as they walked by. However, I felt like an outcast here. I didn’t feel too bad about it, but around every corner, there were rich people walking by. Judging by their clothing and the bags some of the women were carrying, they probably were wealthy and didn’t have a single worry in the world. They might be afraid to scratch their new Gucci shoes or whatever, but they seemed content with their life as they entered another luxury brand store.

    We didn’t see much more of Milan since we only walked down a few blocks, but we headed back to the parking garage and drove around some more before we went to go check into our hotel during our stay here. Unlike some of them, this hotel wasn’t too fancy regarding interior design and services, but it wasn’t so run down and cheap and they serve free breakfast. Besides, although we weren’t so far into our trip, we know that we’ll have to save as much money as we can. This time Scottie booked two rooms instead of three like we’ve been doing so far. And just to be sure we didn’t get tired of each other already, we would mix it up on who would room with who during each stay in each city.

    For this stay, Ira and Bona decided to room with each other again and invited Jules. They accepted the offer, which left me with no choice but to share a room with Scottie and Barnaby. I mean, I don’t mind rooming with either of them. I actually had a great time spending the night with them and I usually would play a game of Monopoly with them before we went to bed. Barnaby was smart to bring that game along because if he didn’t I’m sure we would’ve lost our minds by now. Like I said, all three of us had a great time every night we stayed in Milan, except they said some things I wish I could’ve gone my whole life without hearing them.

    One night after the group investigated the Parco di Monza for clues, we headed back to the hotel and I immediately headed to bed once we got back to the room. I stripped my boots and my jeans off, leaving my t-shirt on to wear as pajamas for the night. The minute I hit the bed, I fell into a deep slumber and thought I would be out for the rest of the night. I was so, so wrong and I really wished that I was a heavy sleeper.

    I woke up in the middle of the night when I heard some strange noises, staying still in my bed to avoid any danger. At first, I thought there might’ve been an intruder in our room, but when I paid close attention to the source of the sound, I realized that no one was breaking in. However, I heard faint bed creaks and a weird moaning sound. Wait.

    “More . . .” Barnaby pant. “More.”

    “Jesus Christ,” I heard Scottie cursed under his breath. “A wicked little bitch, aren’t cha?”

    Luckily for me, I was on my side facing the wall so I couldn’t see what was going on. All those lewd noises they produced, however, were enough to make me feel repulsive toward sex. Do they do this all the time? No, of course not! I haven’t woke up in the middle of the night every single time, so they can’t be  _that_ horny. Maybe, I’m not sure. For the rest of the night, I struggled to stay asleep, even after they reached their climax and went to bed. To this day, that one night in Milan still haunts me in my dreams.

    When I woke up the next morning, it was Saturday, September 17th and our last full day in Milan. There wasn’t much to look at on this last day, and if things went according to plan, Scottie and Jules would suggest that we leave early and move onto Venice already. I was down with the plan as well, but Barnaby was eager to investigate our last stop in Milan: the convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie. Just like every other church in the city and in Italy, it’s old as shit, has amazing architecture, and the interior design is outta this world.

    When the six of us arrived at the church, the building appeared just as I expected it to be. It’s not as big as some of the cathedrals and other churches we’ve visited, but the size of it was still impressive. It reminded me of a few churches I’ve walked past back in Ohio, but they weren’t as elegant as this one. And to my surprise, the exterior of the building has aged well. There’s no moss growing in the corners or vines shielding the brick walls, but what seemed unusual to me was the shade of the bricks. The intensity of the redness was still bright and fresh, and by now the color would’ve washed out or faded away.

    “Hey, do any of you see this?” I called out to the group.

    “What’s up?” Bona greeted me, walking up to observe the brick wall.

    “Doesn’t this wall look strange to you?”

    “What about it?”

    I leaned my shoulder against the wall, crossing my arms while I stared at the colorful bricks.

    “I dunno,” I said. “Doesn’t the building look more, uh . . . modern to you?”

    “Yeah, kinda,” he nodded, grazing his hands over the bricks. “Isn’t this church like hundreds of years old?”

    “Almost five hundred years to be exact,” Jules stated, walking into our conversation. “But you’re right, Ocean. This place has gone under a few renovations.”

    “What for?” I asked for the details.

    “Well, during the Second World War, a couple of fellas bombed this place during an air raid,” they told us, looking up at the church with a saddened look. “They destroyed most of the church.”

    “Damn,” I heard Bona mutter under his breath.

    “Damn is right, son,” Jules agreed. “Luckily, a few walls survived the attack, including the painting.”

    “Wait, which painting?” I asked.

    Before Jules could provide an answer to my question, I heard Scottie call for the rest of us, letting us know that it was clear for us to go inside the church. Jules and I cut the conversation short, but I was certain that I would know the answer shortly.

    Once we stepped inside the church, we were all welcomed with a breeze of cool air. It wasn’t that hot outside in the middle of September, but the humidity was killing me so walking into the church was a literal breath of fresh air. But the air conditioning didn’t surprise me as much as the architecture inside.

    Out of every church and cathedral I have visited so far, I know that this was the place. If I ever wanted to get married, or if I somehow end up becoming a nun, I know that I’ll end up here again someday. In this part of the church we were walking through, the walls and ceiling were painted with Biblical scenes and imagery that I wasn’t familiar with. Maybe Mel would’ve known a thing or two about these paintings, but I wish she was here with me in person to tell me about them. Though the paintings and murals were elegant and holy, I couldn’t help but think of them as some form of religious graffiti. It sounds strange, but after observing the chaotic scenes that were painted in bright, bold colors, I began to remember the trains back home that were covered in layers of graffiti art. I don’t necessarily see it as the lowest form of it; I admire those who are brave enough to stand out from the rest of the crowd.

    After we walked through the hall in awe, we came across a white corridor and began to walk down it. We felt disappointed by the lack of art present in the hall, but when I looked up from the ground and saw what was ahead of me, I literally gasped in surprise. In this iconic painting, Jesus and the Twelve Disciples were all seated and were preparing to eat their last meal with their savior. If I recall correctly, all his followers displayed mixed reactions of anger and shock since Jesus stated that one of them was going to betray him eventually.  
“And there it is, folks,” Jules said, extending their arm out to show off the painting. “ _The Last Supper_ , as painted by da Vinci himself.”

    “No way,” Ira marveled, smiling as she observed the mural from a distance. “It’s so, so —”

    “Different,” Bona finished her sentence. “I know this sounds kinda rude, but this isn’t what I expected to look like in person.”

    “What do you mean by that?” Ira asked.

    I didn’t have to ask to understand what Bona was talking about. Back when I was in high school and was in humanities reading my textbook, I could clearly recall the painting being defined and completed. But in reality, the color has faded away from age and I could see bits of paint curling up, ready to pry itself from the the wall when ready. Of course, the scene of the painting is still clear and identical to the image I’ve seen in textbooks, but looking at the state it’s currently in made me feel depressed. I didn’t know I was publicly mourning until Barnaby came up to me and set his hand on my shoulder.

    “I know what you’re thinkin’, kid,” he sighed. “It’s awful what this world has come to.”

    “It is,” I said. “I shouldn’t be surprised but I am.”

    “Yeah . . . but it’s alright. Luckily for us, we’re here right now and lookin’ at it.”

    I didn’t know what to say about that, but I nodded in agreement. It might look like utter shit now, but I’m lucky enough to see it in person.

    “Okay, everyone,” Scottie called to us. “Get close, I’m gonna take a group picture for the photo album!”

    “What about you, Scottie?” Bona asked. “Don’t you wanna join?”

    “I’ll be fine, I promise. Besides, I don’t like getting my picture taken either.”

    Just as he told us to, the rest of us grouped up and stood in a row, waiting patiently for Scottie to get out his camera. Barnaby rested one of his arms across Jules’ shoulders while Ira and Bona stood there holding hands. As for me standing in the middle, I connected the chain by bringing Ira and Barnaby close to my side, wrapping my arms gently around their necks to make them feel comfortable.

    “Alright,” Scottie said, positioning his camera one more time. “Everyone ready?”

    “Yeah,” we replied all at once, putting on our best smiles.

    “Alright then! Smile on the count of three. One, two, three!”

    A split second after he said “three,” we held our smiles in place as the flash went off and temporarily lit up the room. Once the camera printed the photograph and Scottie caught it before it could fall off the ground, he told us we were good and we all split up once again. Personally, I wanted to move on already and get outta here so we could hit the road and drive to Venice. However, I know that I was gonna have to wait like everyone else.

    “You wanna leave already, too?” Barnaby assumed, realizing that I was pouting while I crossed my arms.

    “Yeah,” I sighed, resting one of my hands on my hips. “And I wanna take a nap, too.”

    “Ha, I feel ya!” he chuckled, patting my back. “It’s alright though. The end of the day will come before you know it.”

    “God, I hope so. And Barnaby?”

    “Yeah?”

    “Ummm . . . can we talk about —”

    I was gonna ask him about last night, but the conversation was interrupted all of a sudden when Scottie shrieked in terror.

    “Oh my God, what the hell?!”

    Barnaby and I whipped our heads toward his direction and saw him holding the photo, looking down at it with sheer horror in his eyes. His jaw dropped as well, but we couldn’t really tell since he held his hand over his mouth. To get a better understanding of what was going on, Barnaby, Jules, and I walked toward him and gathered around him. Ira and Bona were checking out the photograph already, and I could already tell by the look in his eyes that Bona was terrified. Ira appeared to be a tad worried, but she tried to not let it phase her — whatever this horrifying thing was.

    “What happened?” Jules inquired, raising their brows with concern.

    “We should probably burn this,” Ira suggested.

    “No! Are you crazy?!” Scottie blurted. “It’s evidence that it exists! And it could be a clue for all we know.”

    “Uhh, Scottie?” I began to stutter already. “W-What are you talking about?”

    Without hesitation but with caution, he slowly handed the photograph to me and I took it to see what the uproar was about. Suddenly, fear struck a chord within me and now I was having seconds thoughts about looking at it. I know that Scottie just took of photo of us, so what was so terrifying about it? I mean, I’m spooked outta my mind because I’m not sure what else could be in it, but it’s only a group photo of us.

    Finally, without wasting another moment, I flipped the photograph over and began to inspect it. At first, I really thought it was just a normal group photo. In it, we were genuinely happy at that moment and had on our best smiles. As for me, my smile was impersonating that of Mona Lisa’s since I was so self-conscious about my mouth. I dunno why, but that’s just how I felt about it. Aside from that, I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary about us. Us at least. When I brought my attention to the painting in the background, I nearly gasped in horror. Almost nothing startled me since I was used to watching horror films and reading urban legends, but this piece of photographic evidence was something I have never seen before.

    I dunno how Scottie or either of us didn’t see it before he took the photo, but it was definitely not a ghost apparition. The figure was visible to the naked eye and it appeared to be floating behind us, right in front of the painting in Jesus’ place. While I could see it clearly, only the upper part of its body could be seen. Everything below the waist was gone. Aside from the lack of lower limbs, the creature’s physical appearance was absolutely terrifying and demonic. It’s possibly a demon of some sort, but it might be something much worse than that.

    The creature possessed a humanoid appearance but also held monster-like features. It took the form of a man of average weight and height and had a skin complexion so pale that it appeared lifeless. It sported a short bob cut of some kind, the shade of it being a bloody red color. I could barely see it, but it had light freckles sprinkled across its face and nose, which was small and round. Its eyes, however, were the opposite of beautiful. They were literally two tiny black pits — not eye sockets at all. Pure darkness filled these pits while trails of blood ran out of them and streamed down its cheeks. Meanwhile, more blood was pouring out of its mouth, its lips coated in red. I dunno if it was lipstick or actual blood, but it was scaring the shit outta me. The mouth was nearly normal, but the creature’s blood-stained fangs stuck out in plain sight.

    God, there was blood all over the thing now that I realized it. With its throat slit open, it bled profoundly but it didn’t show any gore. The blood stained its chest, white garments, and certain areas of its arms. And just by looking at it, the creature was wearing some attire from ancient Rome. Instead of having any hands, they were replaced by these vicious-looking claws. They looked identical to those of a harpy, but were definitely bigger in size and had opposable thumbs. The claws were entirely made up of scales, but the rest of its forearms were decorated with a majestic white fur, which was sprinkled with specks of blood. Last but not least, it had these angel-like wings, but patches of feathers were torn off here and there and showed some of its paper white skin. It wasn’t that terrible, but in some places, it had a few gruesome injuries and there was blood trailing along the feathers.

    “What kind of sick monster is this?!” I squealed, already beginning to cry my eyes out.

    “The one that Reagan once looked up to,” Scottie revealed to us. “The one that Lev has turned to. The one that we all fear.”


	30. Ira

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: consumption of alcohol, usage of an Ouija board, and an intense scene of demonic possession.

    Nearly a month has passed since we all saw that terrifying photo Scott took of the group. As I stated back in Milan on that day, the image of Lamia didn’t frighten me, but that fact that it might be watching our every step is something that haunts me. For the rest of our travels in Italy, I refused to sleep at night in fear since I was convinced it would come after me. And if it was, I would be gone before I know it. It felt childish of me to feel like that, but then again, Lamia has cast a veil of paranoia over the entirety of Europe. 

    When we finally arrived in Munich, Germany, I thought the mass hysteria died down a bit compared to the panic in Italy. But much hasn’t changed; in fact, the West Germans didn’t hold back their fears and were public about it. During our three day stay in Munich, whenever we went out to investigate the city, millions of fliers were taped to the buildings to warn about the mysterious disappearances and the beast behind it. However, they called Lamia by another name.

    While the others went back to the hotel and stayed there for the rest of the night — the night of October 3rd — Barnaby and I went out to hit up a local bar. I didn’t drink that much but I figured I needed one to forget all of my troubles for the night. Funny thing is that I didn’t go all out. I only gulped down two glasses of wine within the span of two hours, so I didn’t feel as wasted as I expected. Barnaby was on a whole other level. The man chugged six shots of vodka in the same time range as me, and he was drunk like mad but tried to deny it while he was leaning on me.

    “Heyyy,” he slurred, wrapping one arm around my shoulders. “Ya . . . ya know what kiddo? I kinda like you.”

    “And you’re kinda drunk,” I remarked. I then proceeded to ask him about his drinking habits. “Do you do this all the time?”

    He took a moment to respond, staring at the bartender while the blush on his face reddened.

    “Come again?” he asked, trying to process what was going on.

    “Ugh,” I groaned. “Nevermind. Let’s just get you back to the room.”

    “Ohhh, nonsense!” he blurted, drawing his arm away. “I’m fine!”

    Right when he stood up to walk, he was only able to walk two steps forward until he tripped somehow and fell to the ground. He didn’t groan in agony or anything of that matter, but he laughed as if everything in the world was alright. He sat up, continuing to giggle in that drunken state of mind.

    “C’mon, Barnaby,” I said, hopping off my seat to lift him up. “Scott’s probably waiting for you.”

    “Nonsense, babe!” he hollered, letting out a hiccup. “It can’t — it can’t get to meeeeee!”

    “What the hell are you talking about?!”

    He didn’t explain the meaning of his words but smiled instead. I didn’t say anything back to him and helped him up. Once he paid for our drinks, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder again and allowed me to guide him back to the hotel. I know that it was going to be a hard journey, but I knew that he couldn’t walk back in a state like this.

    We both left the bar at exactly midnight as I tried to navigate us through the dark. Though the city was lit up well, my vision was still a bit fuzzy from the wine I drank earlier. There were a few times where he nearly tripped and I almost went down with him, but I was able to pick him back up. However, when we were halfway there, he tripped again and I wasn’t able to get him back up.

    “C’mon, Barnaby!” I begged him. “You know that we can’t stay out here!”

    “I . . .” he paused for a second, yawning before he could continue. “I’ll be fineeeee . . .”

    “No, you won’t! C’mon, please get up!”

    I thought we were both done for that night, but unexpectedly, a young white woman with a dark brown bob came by and started to help Barnaby up.

    “Get up, young man,” she said, speaking in unaccented English. “You don’t want Rome’s Devil to snatch you up at this hour.”

    “The what?” I questioned, helping her with the task.

    “Are you not from here?”

    “No,” I shook my head. “I was born and raised in England. My friend is from Philadelphia, but he lives in Paris.”

    “I loved Paris!” the woman smiled, lighting up the mood of the conversation already. “I was there a week ago. I’m on a business trip currently.”

    “You’re not from here either?” I assumed.

    “No,” she replied. “I was born in Reneo, but my parents are both from East Germany. I live in Floresco with my husband and we have a daughter.”

    “That’s nice . . .” I paused for a moment, trying to remember what we were talking about originally. Then it came back to me. “What were you talking about though? Who is Rome’s Devil?”

    “For starters, it has been called multiple names,” the woman explained. “In East and West Germany, the people call it ‘Rome’s Devil.’ I only know that from my parents. My husband and I call it ‘Lamia’ like everyone else.”

    “Ohh!” I realized. “I know who you’re talking about now. It actually took one of our friends.”

    “You can’t be serious!” she gasped, her face filled with surprise. “I’m so sorry about that!”

    “Everything will be fineeeee!” Barnaby slurred. “I’ll kill that sunnava bitch!”

    “Alright, Barnaby,” I chuckled. “Calm down, now. We’re almost there.”

    Three minutes passed and we arrived at the hotel safe and sound. I thanked the woman for her help, popping a joke about how we would’ve been goners if she didn’t come to the rescue.

    “I’m glad I could help!” she said, showing her radiant, warm smile once more. “The world has gone to shit these days, but I’m certain your friend will come back.”

    “We appreciate it,” I thanked her. “We’ll be going now, but thank you for everything.”

    “Of course. Have a safe journey now!”

    We parted ways momentarily, but before Barnaby and I could enter the main lobby, I turned around for a second and watched the woman carefully.

    “Hey, miss!” I called to her. “I never got your name!”

    She turned around and saw me again, still smiling.

    “It’s Amelia!” she revealed. “Amelia Prinz!”

    “Thank you, Amelia! Have a safe trip home!”

    I didn’t see Amelia again after that drunken night. I woke up fine the next morning while we waited for Barnaby to get ready since he was hungover. Nonetheless, he turned out fine and our stay in Munich went smoothly according to plan. 

    We all left Germany on October 5th, which also marked day twenty-nine of our road trip. We then spent another boring, uneventful week in Vienna and Budapest, finding no whereabouts or traces of Lamia in either city. We still came across a few paranoid citizens, but both cities weren’t in such an uproar about the creature. Still, I could recall walking past a few churches and reading the signs they posted at their doors. I couldn’t actually read them since they were written in Hungarian, but looking at the colossal black font was enough to make me feel uneasy. One word that stood out to me was “Lamia.”

    We finally left Budapest at the crack of dawn on October 12th, having Scott drive us for over twelve hours. I was bored out of my mind at first, staring at the mountains and forest in agony. Eventually, I came down with a throbbing headache and asked Ocean if we could trade seats so that I could take a nap. When we stopped at a gas station, I moved to the back seat and laid across it. Closing my eyes, I fell asleep right away and slept for what felt like forever. What I experienced while I was unconscious disturbed me; I wasn’t exactly in a dream, but I saw something clearly with my very own eyes.

    I stood in the middle of . . . something. All around me was pure darkness, a darkness so stainless and black that I felt evil and uncertainty surrounding me. I never knew where it came from and where it ended, but I wanted to get out of this place. Whatever it was, I know that I didn’t need to be here. For a few more seconds, I was still surrounded by darkness until light lit up below me. The glow of the light was intense, but I still didn’t see anything ahead of me. Instead, I was walking on a land of light. Whatever this place was, I was certain that this was . . .

    “A place where the light and darkness meet,” I heard a voice interrupt my train of thought. “It feels unsettling to walk in a place like this, but it’s astonishing and beautiful, no?”

    I nearly jumped in fear, not recognizing whose voice that was. I was close to panicking until a hand grasped my shoulder, turning me around to reveal a familiar face. Though I have never seen him in person, Scott has talked to me about him and shown me photos of the man. Standing before me was a man that stood exactly at my height, who had short brown hair with his bangs swept across his forehead. I know he wasn’t so pale, but the light from the floor made him look sick. Luckily, I could still recognize that face. Despite the drastic change in physical appearance, when I stared into those icy blue eyes of his, they were still filled with regret. 

    “It sure is, Reagan,” I called him by his first name. “Hello.”

    “Hello, there,” he greeted me. “Why are you here?”

    “You tell me,” I joked. “What is this place?”

    “Like I said, Miss Korrapati . . . a place where light and darkness meet,” he repeated. “Where good and evil clash. Where empathy and reason struggle. Where humankind and God themselves agree and disagree. A place where I hope you don’t end up in.”

    “What does that mean?” I questioned. “The last part?”

    He didn’t bother to offer another explanation but froze up in terror while he stared off into the distance. I nearly turned to see what he was looking at, but he turned me away from it and began to lead me.

    “Don’t look back!” he begged me. “Don’t!”

    “What is it?!” I yelled, trying to pry my arm free from his grasp.

    As we continued to walk, I saw a door of light emerge from the ground and open. Wherever it led to, Reagan pushed me toward the door and continued to do so.

    “Go!” he commanded. “Don’t let it enter your mind!”

    Though I was tempted to turn around and look back at it, I did what Reagan said and walked to the door, surrounded by light. Blinded by the light, I closed my eyes for a moment and opened them once again, gasping for a fresh breath of air and realized that I was back in the van.

    “Ira!” Bona nearly gasped. “Are you alright?!”

    I stared at him in shock, trying to process what just happened. I couldn’t explain the situation, but I figured that it was better to cover up the truth.

    “I had a nightmare,” I lied, “but I’m fine now.”

    “Are you sure?”

    “Yeah, but . . . it felt so real.”

    “Well, you’re safe now, honey,” he said, kissing me on the cheek to cheer me up. “And we’ll be in Floresco in half an hour.”

    I smiled, sitting up in my seat to stretch in preparation for our stop.

* * *

 

    Four days later during our stay in Floresco, Scott pulled the van up into someone’s driveway and turned the engine off, getting out of the driver’s seat.

    “We can all get out of the van now,” he said. “We’re visiting.”

    I couldn’t remember who this person was again, but Scott previously stated they were a close friend of him and Barnaby. And judging by the architecture of their house, they seemed to be doing well financially. The house wasn’t too fancy, but the design was modern and newly built according to today’s standards. I stared at the front door for another second before I slammed the van shut after Ocean got out.

    We gathered around the front door while Scott stepped up to knock on the door. Today was a Sunday, so whoever owned the place was likely to be at home. When a few more seconds passed and no one answered, Scott raised his fist again and was about to knock on the wood until a man opened the front door.

    “Heyyy!” the man greeted Scott, hugging him. “Long time, no see Marnon! How’ve you been?”

    “I’m doing great!” Scott chuckled, letting go of the man. “I don’t think you forgot about this, but my friends and I are visiting for a few hours today. Did you get the board?”

    “Oh, totally, but come on in first!” the man invited us. “Besides, I want you to meet my family. And I want to introduce myself to your friends too!”

    “Sounds great! C’mon, everyone.”

    Without hesitation, we went ahead and walked inside, feeling welcome the moment we stepped inside the house. While the rest of the group went ahead and sat down at the couches, Jules and I walked around the house to admire the home decor. As we explored the place, my foot bumped into a few toys, which I looked down at and saw that they were Barbie dolls. The man mentioned he had a family, so these dolls most likely belonged to his daughter, wherever she is right now. 

    Before we could enter the kitchen, Jules turned to observe one of the pictures hanging on the wall. I looked up to it as well, curious about who was in the photograph. It was a wedding photo of the man and his wife, dating back to June 30, 1980, as it stated in the bottom left corner of the photo. I didn’t see it at first but I eventually realized that he was Japanese; though his hair back then was just as long as Bona’s, I could still tell that it’s the same man. His face was similar to that of Yukihiro Takahashi’s, having wide, oval-shaped eyes, an average-sized but refined nose, and a rectangular-shaped face. Of course, he didn’t have a jaw as strong and prominent as Takahashi’s, but he still pulled off the look. I couldn’t determine the shade of his skin, however, since it was a black-and-white photo.

    His wife, on the other hand, was the opposite when it came to physical appearance. She had a pixie cut, but her face immediately caught my attention. I might’ve seen her from somewhere, but I couldn’t recall when. Her skin was pale, and she had a pair of small, almond-shaped eyes, and a droopy nose. I found her nose quite odd, but then I figured that it complimented her triangular-shaped face and plump lips. Then, I suddenly remembered her.

    “I know her,” I said, pointing to the picture.

    “His wife?” Jules asked.

    Before I answered their question, Scott and the others came walking out of the kitchen in a laughing fit, the man holding his daughter’s hand.

    “I still can’t believe you remember that after all these years, Jiro!” Scott cackled, pointing his hand at me and Jules. “Anyway, here’s Jules and Ira!”

    “Oh, hello!” Jiro greeted us, releasing his daughter’s hand to shake Jules’. “I’m Jiro Kawaguchi, a good friend of Scottie’s!”

    “It’s very nice to meet you,” Jules said, smiling afterward. “Ira told me that she knows your wife.”

    “Really?” he asked enthusiastically. “Since when?”

    Just before I could say anything else, his wife came up beside him and started shaking my hand, still showing off that same majestic smile of hers.

    “It’s nice to see you again!” she said. “How are you? I didn’t know that you were a friend of Scott!”

    “I am,” I replied, “and I’m doing great.”

    “That’s good to hear! Now come on, take a seat. I’ll go grab some snacks.”

    I accepted the offer and went back to the living room, walking toward the couches to sit down with Bona and Jules. Ocean, Barnaby, and Scott sat on the couch across us while Jiro and his daughter sat on the couch that was aside from the six of us, still introducing himself to the group.

    “That’s Ira’s boyfriend, Bona,” Scott said, pointing to him. “They started dating last November.”

    “Hey there,” Bona waved, smiling nervously. “I’m not great at intros.”

    “It’s okay, kid,” Scott told him. “Jiro here said the same thing when I met back in ‘73. Right?”

    “I sure did,” Jiro chuckled. “I remembered it like it was yesterday.”

    “I do, too,” said Scott, showing Ocean to his friend. “This is Ocean. They’re a journalist from the U.S. and they’re Mel’s best friend. The two of them were originally traveling Europe for a business trip.”

    “Dang, kid,” Jiro replied, expressing concern for them. “This wasn’t what you had in mind at all, wasn’t it?”

    Ocean looked down at the carpet for a moment, not sure how to answer Jiro’s question. He waited for another second, but then broke the silence.

    “You don’t talk much, do you?”

    “I-I do,” they stuttered. “I’m just . . . really awkward sometimes. And yeah, I’m kinda shy.”

    “Well, there’s nothing wrong with that,” Jiro tried to reassure them. “That’s how my daughter is. Kadima just started school this year and she’s still trying to get used to it. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

    And of course, the little girl with short brown hair didn’t respond and stared at her dad with uncertainty.

    “She’s shy around strangers, too,” he told us. “But she’s a wild child. She was singing along to Tears for Fears this morning.”

    “How cute!” Scott complimented, who then wrapped an arm around Barnaby’s waist and smiled. “And I think I’ve already talked to you about him, but this is my boyfriend.”

    “It’s nice to meet you, Barnaby,” Jiro greeted him. “How long have you been dating Scottie?”

    “Well . . .” Barnaby started but left his sentence trailing for a moment. “I met him four years ago at the Red Corridor. We were friends at first, then friends with benefits. We actually started dating last month.”

    “Well, congrats! You two must be very happy.”

    “Definitely.”

    After Barnaby introduced himself to Jiro, Amelia came out of the kitchen with a tray full of crackers and dip. It didn’t look so appetizing to me, but it was better to munch on than leftover fast food. However, I only ate a few crackers with the ranch dip before I decided that they were not for me. I left the rest of the crackers to everyone, who gobbled them all up in seconds as we talked about normal life stuff.

    Even as I was engaging in the conversation, I thought about what why we were here. Jiro told us that he’s a friend of Scott, which means that he can help us in some way. Scott did ask him earlier if he had a board in his possession, but I couldn’t figure out what this board could be. Then, I thought about the dreadful photograph Scott took back in Milan, the one which Lamia cursed. Well, I wouldn’t say the photograph itself was actually cursed. However, every time I dared to look at the creature, I would feel a pit of gruesome despair in my stomach. Cursed. Board. Wait a minute. 

    “I’m going out to the back porch to smoke a cigarette,” Jiro excused himself. “Scottie, would you, Barnaby, and Ira have a word with me for a second?”

    “Sure,” Scott nodded.

    “Yeah, sounds great,” said Barnaby. “Besides, I haven’t smoked in a few days.”

    I stayed silent and nodded, getting up off the couch and walked to the back porch to hang out with the group. I wasn’t entirely sure what Jiro was fixing to talk about, but I know that it probably wasn’t good news. When we all stepped outside into the back porch, I slid the glass door shut and sat down on one of the cheap plastic chairs. Jiro did as well, lighting up the tip of his cigarette while Scott and Barnaby sat down together on the wooden bench. Once Jiro lit it up, he passed the lighter to Barnaby and brought the drug to his lips. He inhaled and then exhaled a puff of white smoke.

    “So,” Jiro started, “you’re going to tell the others about tonight’s plans, right?”

    “Yeah,” Scott nodded, but he displayed a look of puzzlement on his face. “Why are we out here though?”

    “Well . . . you took that picture of Lamia,” he pointed out. “Barnaby has . . . you know. And I saw your friend Ira in the Median.”

    I nearly jumped out of my seat, but I held onto the handle of the chair and tried to keep calm.

    “That wasn’t a dream?!” I questioned, even though it was clear I already knew the answer. “How were you there?”

    “Oh yeah, it’s definitely not a dream,” Jiro replied, inhaling the chemicals of his cigarette and blowing them into the air before he continued. “The Median is a trap. It’s a realm that Lamia created to capture its victims.”

    “So, like how Freddy Krueger kills kids in their sleep?” Barnaby assumed, bringing the end of his cigarette to his mouth to smoke.

    “Not really,” said Jiro, shrugging, “but whenever it’s really dark outside or the victim is asleep, Lamia will manipulate that reality into another realm. It’s a place where —”

    “Light and darkness meet,” I interrupted him to finish his sentence. “That’s what Reagan told me!”

    “Yeah, I heard him too. He’s very brave for getting you out of there.”

    “No shit. He was telling me to not look at it the whole time he was pushing me out.”

    “That’s the purpose of the Median,” Scott explained, shifting in his seat to cross his legs. “If you look at Lamia for even a split second, you’re gone.”

    “But what happens?” I wondered.

    The conversation fell silent while Barnaby and Jiro continued to smoke. Jiro appeared to be keeping his calm about the subject of Lamia, but I saw that Barnaby had a disgruntled look on his face. He didn’t seem to have a problem with Scott or Jiro, but I know that something else was bothering him. However, he wasn’t ready to tell us the truth.

    “You fall into a state of hypnosis,” Jiro continued after blowing a puff of smoke. “And then Lev comes in to take you away. I’ve seen it happen when she took Mel.”

    “So what are we doing tonight?” I asked him worriedly.

    Jiro crushed the tip of his cigarette into the ashtray, rubbing it against the surface to make sure he put it out completely. He then slowly stood up from his chair and walked toward the glass door, sliding it over to walk back inside and then closed it behind him. The three of us were left in silence again, as I wondered about what Jiro could be up to. But then I remembered that Scott mentioned the board. I then thought about Barnaby. He always stood out in many ways, but there was something unusual about him since Jiro refused to mention how Lamia tried to contact him.

    “Hey, Barnaby,” I called for his attention. “What was your encounter with —”

    I was unable to finish my question when Jiro came back out with a slim box in his arms. I couldn’t see what it was for sure since the front of the box was pressed against his chest, but the shape of the box looked like you could fit a board game inside it. When he sat back down and placed the box on his lap, the first thing I noticed on the box was the word “Ouija” printed in bold, white letters. My eyes widened in terror and I immediately realized that this was going to be a horrible idea.

    “Nah-uh!” I protested, crossing my arms in front of me to form an X. “There’s no way I’m going to mess with that!”

    “Believe me, Ira,” Barnaby said, appearing to be uncomfortable with this as well. “I don’t wanna do this either, but it’s our only way to contact Lamia.”

    “He’s right,” Jiro nodded. “Tonight at nine o’clock sharp, we’ll go and try this board out.”

    “And what if it doesn’t work?” I questioned him.

    “Well, we won’t know for sure until we try.”

    “Is . . .” Barnaby started but then paused to smoke more. “Is there anything else we should bring tonight for this?”

    “Bring some holy water just in case,” Jiro suggested, smirking for some reason. “Other than that, just bring yourselves.”

    “Alright then. I’ll go out and get the water.”

    “Sounds fine with me,” Scott said. After saying that, Barnaby finally stood up and went back inside, assuming that he was going out to collect holy water from a church nearby. There were three of us now, unable to continue the conversation until Scott asked a question.

    “So are we still doing this in your basement?”

    “No,” Jiro said, reaching for the back of his head to scratch it. “There’s an old abandoned church nearby so we’ll do it there.”

    “It sounds safe,” I told him. “Safer than doing it at home.”

    “Definitely,” Jiro nodded. 

 

    Night approached sooner than I thought it would. After Jiro was through with putting his daughter to bed, we headed to the church once the clock struck nine. At first I thought the place would be located somewhere in the city like the ones we’ve previously visited, but instead, we drove away from the city and suburbs altogether. 

    We were out in the country now, which was sparsely populated by a few homes and a gas station. But it didn’t stop there; for another twenty minutes, we drove further into the outskirts, passing by fields of wheat and grass. Surprisingly, I didn’t see any signs of animal life. Usually, cows would inhabit the place for miles and miles, but there were no signs of life whatsoever. It shouldn’t bother me, but there was something suspicious about this place.

    We finally pulled up to the old abandoned church, grabbing our flashlights and candles while Jiro got a hold of the Ouija board. Unlike the churches we’ve visited these past few weeks, there was nothing special or significant about this one. Even as I walked outside and investigated the area, I couldn’t find a sign for it. Maybe it meant something to the people at one point, but now the vast, grey building was in the process of being consumed by Mother Nature. Moss and vines covered the walls, and when I pointed my light at the roof, I saw that it was missing a couple of shingles. And as if it were straight out of a horror movie, the cross on top of the roof was broken into bits. Even though I was in a group, I couldn’t help but feel like someone or something was going to snatch me up at any moment. 

    “Alright,” said Jiro, “let’s go.”

    Leaving the cold, pitch black darkness behind, we all walked through the main entrance without a hassle since the doors were hacked off. The place was immediately lit up as we brought our lights inside, and I immediately ran to the table ahead of me to place some of the candles down. The table was smaller than I imagined it to be — it was a circular table — but I think some of us wouldn’t mind having to stand up during the ritual. Plus, there were a few shelves nearby so we could place the rest of the candles there.

    Once we had everything arranged and lit up the candles, Jules and Barnaby brought in a few chairs that they’ve found. They only found a total of four chairs, so three of us were going to have to stand. It was already decided that Scott, Barnaby, and I would sit down since we were going to contact Lamia. A moment later, Jiro asked Jules if they wanted to take a seat, since he didn’t want their feet to start aching. Jules accepted the offer, thanking Jiro for his generosity. This left Bona, Jiro, and Ocean no choice but to stand around the table. When we finally sat down and the rest of us gathered around, Jiro began to take the board out.

    “Okay,” he started, “before we get started, we have to go over a few rules so we can play safe.”

    “I figured,” said Ocean, sounding tired. “We don’t wanna piss it off even more.”

    “You’re right,” he nodded, giving Ocean a thumbs up and then put his hand down. “Okay, rule number one: we have to protect ourselves. We’ve already done that. Do you have the water, Barnaby?”

    Barnaby reached into his back pocket and produced a medium-sized bottle in his hand. The words “holy water” were engraved on there in gold.

    “Good, awesome,” Jiro thanked him. “This doesn’t apply to us right now, but the second rule is that you should always respect the dead.”

    “Isn’t that common sense?” I questioned.

    “It should be,” he stated, sounding annoyed, “but instead, you have a bunch of teenagers who think the board is just a joke. We’re not gonna have a problem with that, are we?”

    “Umm, no.”

    “Alright then. And I apologize for the tone, I’m not mad at you. I promise, okay?”

    I nodded, taking his word to be true.

    “Alright, moving on,” he continued. “Rule number three: when you end the ritual, you have to say goodbye. Otherwise, you’ll invite more demons and whatnot into this world.”

    “Got it,” I acknowledged. “What’s rule number four?”

    “Do not ask when you’re going to die,” he said. “That’s a big no.”

    “Rule number five?” I asked once more.

    “This is the last rule I’m giving,” he went on. “There are more rules, but since we’re contacting a demon, we can forget about those. But my final rule is to never leave the planchette on the board, ever! And the leader should always keep their fingers placed on it until the session ends.”

    “That’s it?”

    “Yup, that’s it.” Jiro paused for a minute, looking at the board and then back at us. “So who’s going to lead?”

    Though we know what he was talking about, Scott, Barnaby, and I didn’t peep a word. I already suspected that Barnaby didn’t want to do it since Jiro implied that his encounter with Lamia was a dangerous one. Unspeakable, but dangerous. Scott’s already been through enough, just enough to write a whole book about it. So that left me, who has yet to have a proper conversation with the demon.

    “I’ll do it,” I spoke up.

    “Really?!” Barnaby blurted, looking at me with wide eyes. “Are you sure, Ira?”

    “I’m sure,” I assured him. “I know I can do this.”

    “Are we ready then?” Jiro inquired.

    The rest of us nodded, ready to get this show on. Without hesitation, Jiro pulled the planchette out and placed it on the board carefully, as if it were a death trap. I placed all of my fingers on it, except for my thumbs, and adjusted it to the middle of the board. I took a deep breath and then exhaled, doing so a few more times to calm my senses. There was no point in going back now; the ritual had begun.

    We sat and stood around the table in silence, with everyone waiting for me to ask a question. I have already planned my questions in advance, but for some reason, I didn’t have the courage to speak. At this point, I was listening to what was happening outside. As expected, nothing was happening and nothing could be heard. A minute later, a gust of wind flew by and produced a whistling noise as it passed through the church, almost scaring the shit out of Scott. I was glad that I decided to take the lead and not him.

    At this point I was just wasting time, so I took another deep breath and exhaled, sitting up straight and looked at the board in front of me. Finally, I gained enough confidence to ignite the conversation.

    “Are there any spirits here with us?” I muttered under my breath.

    We didn’t get a response right away, so I assumed that this was either fake or that this wasn’t going to work at all. However, I felt an energy pull on the planchette and all of a sudden, it began to drag itself. I kept my fingers placed on it, keeping an eye on it to see where it was going. It dragged itself to the left corner of the board, placing itself on a one-word answer: yes.

    “Oh my God,” I heard Ocean mutter in surprise. “This is so cool!”

    “Don’t get too excited now,” Jiro whispered back and then turned his attention back to me. “Keep going, Ira. You’re doing great so far.”

    I calmed down a bit, trying not to show fear to Lamia, or to any other unknown spirit that might be here with us. I stared at the planchette, confident that I got this situation under control.

    “What is your name?” I asked openly.

    We waited a moment for the spirit to answer, whispering among ourselves for a bit before I felt a force tug on the planchette again. This time it was hovering along the letters of the alphabet to spell out a name. L-U-C-I-L-L-E. 

    “Lucille . . .” I repeated, realizing that this wasn’t going as planned. However, I continued to question the spirit. “Are you a good spirit?”

    Jiro looked at me, his eyes filled with an overwhelming sense of worry. Even though we weren’t talking to Lamia, I was confident that we were going to gain clues about Mel’s whereabouts. All of a sudden the planchette started to move again, but this time it moved toward the top right corner. Of course, it landed on our most expected answer: no. I was truly disturbed by this, but I wasn’t surprised. While we weren’t out of the woods yet, I thanked my lucky stars that I wasn’t talking to Lamia. I took another deep breath and continued the ritual.

    “Are you working for Lamia?” I asked.

    It moved to the other side, landing on “yes” once again. All of us gasped in unison; I was well aware that we were all dealing with a malevolent spirit, but I honestly wasn’t going to expect much from it. And to my surprise so far, it was cooperating with us. I smiled and my anxiety began to wane as I threw in the next question.

    “Do you possess any human being?”

    I don’t know why I asked that question, but I figured it would be fun to ask. Plus, I figured it would be best if we took our time to get to know the demon. I didn’t want to learn too much, but I wanted to gain its trust first before I could ask it about Mel. As usual, the planchette began to hover over the alphabet, pointing to one letter at a time to spell out a name. However, the answer it gave us shocked us all. It selected these letters in order: L-E-V D-E C-A-M-P-O. Together, they spelled Lev’s full name.

    “I can’t believe it!” Scott gasped. 

    “Oh, God,” Jules followed.

    “We’re so fucked,” Bona cursed.

    “Calm down, everyone,” Jiro quietly commanded. “Ira’s got this.”

    I was beginning to feel anxious again, but he was right. I got this situation all under my control, so I definitely couldn’t quit now. I looked down at the board once again, trying to stay focused.

    “Where is Lev right now?” I inquired, trying my best not to stutter. However, I was sure that it was sensing our fears right now, mine especially. We only waited for a few seconds before it began to spell out another word. M-O-S-C-O-W.

    “Well, duh!” Ocean openly mocked the spirit. “But specifically where?!”

    At that moment, we all knew that this was going to go downhill. The next thing I know, I looked down again and saw that the planchette was moving around in a particular motion. It moved along to form what looked like the number eight. I had no idea was this meant at first, but when I was about to ask Jiro about this, he was beginning to panic.

    “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he cursed, shaking his hands. “Ira, you have to end this now!”

    Without hesitation, I attempted to drag the planchette over the word “goodbye.” However, Lucille’s energy tugged it away from me and my fingers flew off of it. I kept my hands up, sitting still while I continued to watch it spiral out of control. Everyone tried to remain calm, but Ocean left the group and began to pace around us.

    “Oh God, oh God, oh God!” they panicked. “I fucked up!”

    “Ocean, please calm down,” Bona begged, following them to try and help them. He then turned his head around and gave me a worried look. “Ira, please do something!”

    “I don’t know if I can!” I nearly raised my voice. “It wouldn’t let me say goodbye!”

    “J-just do something!” he stuttered. “Anything! Please!”

    While everyone else stepped away from the table, Barnaby reached over and placed his fingers on the planchette to try and stop it. I went ahead and placed my fingers on it as well, which finally forced it to stop moving. I could still feel a dark form of energy emerge from the planchette, but I know that if Barnaby and I worked hard enough, we would be able to send the demon back to where it came from. Before we could work up to say goodbye, I calmly asked Lucille one final question.

    “Why are you doing this?” 

    Just when I thought this situation was tense enough, the wind outside began to blow again in a violent manner. As it blew through the church to and fro the windows, it produced whistling sounds again and I swore that I heard something howl outside. Another powerful gust of wind blew in, extinguishing the flames of the candles within seconds. Luckily, we still had our flashlights on us so Jiro was able to switch his on right when the candles went out. Everyone else but Barnaby and I turned their lights on, pointing them to the board to see if Lucille had spoken yet. As the wind continued to whistle its eerie song, we waited another minute until I felt the demon’s energy tug on the planchette.

    Barnaby and I leaned over a bit, looking over the planchette in silence as it hovered over the alphabet. While the answer didn’t satisfy my question, a wave of chills coursed throughout my body and I could feel goosebumps pop up all over my arms. L-A-M-I-A. After the planchette hovered over the final letter, Barnaby swiftly drew his arms back and leaned backward, only to fall out of his chair and landed on the ground. I turned and saw that he was spazzing out for a moment, but froze up once he arched his back. He clutched his fingers as if they were claws and his mouth was wide open. My heart started beating rapidly and I could feel my palms sweating, but I wasn’t sure what was going on with him. 

    “B-Barnaby?!” I spat, trying keep my fingers on the planchette. “Bar —”

    I nearly fell out of my seat when he finally released a blood-curdling scream. He dug his nails deep into his palms, throwing his head back further as he continued to scream in agony. Though this was the first time I’ve heard him screaming, the sound he was producing didn’t resemble that of a human. It sounded demonic and dreadful as if . . .

    “It’s trying to possess him!” Jiro yelled. “End it now, Ira!”

    “Make it stop!” Barnaby screeched in pain. “End it now, Jesus fucking Christ!”

    While Scott reached into Barnaby’s pocket to pull out the holy water, I use all of my strength to finally put an end to this ritual. Instead of placing my fingers lightly on the planchette, I forced them down and began to drag it over the bottom of the board. I dragged it across slowly, signaling “goodbye” to the demon. Once I was done with that, I grabbed the planchette off the board and wrapped it in the cloth as Jiro told me to do earlier before we left. I asked Jiro if he could properly put it away for me, which he kindly accepted and grabbed both items off of my hands.

    “Ira!” Jules called for me. “Help me pin Barnaby down!”

    I immediately rushed to Barnaby’s side and pinned his right arm while Jules was holding onto his left arm. Ocean and Bona were pinning down his legs while Scott sat on top of his stomach and began to unscrew the bottle. Though we all had Barnaby under our control, I felt like he was going to break free at any moment. Without wasting another second, Scott brought the bottle of holy water to Barnaby’s lips, but he flinched his mouth away and let out another scream.

    “C’mon, babe,” Scott cried. “Please be still.”

    “GET THE FUCK OFF ME, YOU HORRID BEING!” I heard the demon’s voice emerge from Barnaby. “YOUR BELOVED WHORE BELONGS TO LAMIA!”

    “Well, fuck you!” Scott retorted the demon, clutching Barnaby’s chin. “I’m in love again, and I’m not gonna let you take him away from me!”

    And just like that, he shoved the tip of the bottle into his boyfriend’s mouth. The demon continued to yelp in pain and was attempting to break free, but Scott was assured that his love for Barnaby was a million times stronger than this burning hatred that the demon held. He was right. After Barnaby drank all of the holy water, Scott leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Instead of resisting or tugging, Barnaby sighed in relief and released every ounce of tension from his body. While the rest of us let go of him and stepped away, Scott stood up and grabbed his hands, lifting Barnaby up off the ground. However, he couldn’t stand still for long and fell into Scott’s arms. I was about to ask what was wrong with him, but I then heard him crying.

    “I-It hurts so much!” he wailed. “So much!”

    “What hurts?” I stressed.

    “E-Everything . . .”

    I didn’t bother to ask Barnaby about his experience anymore, knowing that he was in so much pain. Not just physical, but the attempted possession must’ve harmed him psychologically as well. While everyone gathered and tried to comfort Barnaby, Jiro tapped on my shoulder and I turned to see what he wanted. 

    “Do you want to help me bury this?” he asked kindly. “It’s kind of complicated.”

    “Sure,” I nodded. “Anything to make Barnaby feel safe.”

    “Thanks. Just follow me.”

    I followed Jiro as he told me to and we left the church to go outside, walking behind the building and entered the backyard. I saw that there was a small hole in the ground, ready for the board to hop in. Before I could ask Jiro what we’re supposed to do, he holds the board up in mid-air over the ground and stomps on it, splitting it in half. Once he’s done, he hands me the other half. 

    “We break this into seven pieces,” he instructed. “Then we’ll toss it into this hole, pour more holy water on it, and bury it. Got it?”

    “Yeah,” I replied.

    Though it was a tough job to split the wood, we managed to split the board into seven pieces and threw it down the hole. Jiro then pulled out another bottle of holy water out of his bag and poured all of the water all over the pieces. When he was finished, he closed the bottle and put it back in his bag. I thought he was able to finish the job when he picked up the shovel nearby, but when he walked back over here, he handed the shovel over to me. Without a word, I accepted the duty and began to shovel up the dirt and place it over the pieces. While I was burying it, I couldn’t help but feel guilty for no reason.

    “I’m sorry, Mr. Kawaguchi,” I apologized. 

    “What for?” he asked, sounding concerned. 

    “For causing all of this.” I stopped for a second, looking up at the sky to gaze at the stars. “I wish I let Scott or Barnaby lead the session.”

    “It’s not your fault, Ira,” he reassured me. “None of us saw it coming.”

    “But . . .” I paused again, lifting the shovel up again to finish burying the board. “Barnaby is in so much pain. It hurts me to see him like that.”

    “It hurts me, too. He’s been hurting forever. It’s gotten worse since . . .”

    Jiro wasn’t going to finish. Instead, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and pulled a stick out to smoke. He inserted the pack into his back pocket and reached into his bag again, pulling out a lighter for his cigarette. He inserted the drug into his mouth and brought the flame of the lighter to the tip of it, using his other hand to shield the flame. Once he lit it up, he inhaled the chemicals of the drug and put his lighter away, pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, and blew out a giant puff of smoke. 

    “What were you going to say?” I inquired, dumping the last batch of dirt on the burial site. “About Barnaby being hurt?”

    “Nothing,” he sighed. “I should keep my damn mouth shut.”

    “Bu —”

    “Jiro? Ira?” I heard Scott call for us. “Are you both ready to go?”

    “Yeah!” I hollered. “We’re coming!’

    For now, the nightmare was over. We still have yet to know where Mel is in Moscow, but Barnaby’s near-possession at the church that night still scared the everloving shit out of me. Like I said, that nightmare was over now but I couldn’t stop thinking about what Jiro said about him.  _"_ _ He’s been hurting forever.”  _ And it’s gotten worse, but how?


	31. Ocean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the following: implied sexual content

    Over a week had passed since we attempted to contact Lamia through that damn Ouija board. Don’t get me wrong — I was fascinated by the thing, but it went downhill so suddenly. It probably would’ve gone wrong either way, but the torture that Barnaby endured at the time was something that kept me up at night for a few days. I tried to pretend that the whole thing was a dream, but Lucille’s vile screeches were all I could think of whenever I saw Barnaby in pain. But that wasn’t the first time that we all caught him in pain. Ira told me that when she and Jiro went to bury the board that same night, Jiro mentioned that Barnaby had been hurting for a long time. She told me that he didn’t mention for how long now, but the pain has grown worse. Again, I wasn’t sure since when, but whether it was physical or emotional, I’m sure that it hurt him all around.

    Whatever it was, I was desperate to find out. Ira and Bona wanted to help me too because they never found out what happened to Barnaby. During our stay in Warsaw, Poland, only two rooms were booked so I decided to join the two to talk about the matter. We didn’t hesitate to ignite the conversation; once we got back to the room after shopping on our first night, we got the ball rolling while we were getting ready for bed. Well, we weren’t going to sleep yet then, but we were just trying to relax.  

    “Scott never peeped a word about it to us,” said Bona, who was using the remote to change the channel. “I dunno why, but I didn’t wanna ask.”

    “Why?” I asked, slipping on an oversized T-shirt.

    “I was afraid that the man was gonna flip out on me,” he stated. “I mean it’s probably too hard for him to talk about.”

    “But what if it isn’t?”

    “But what if it is?”

    “Asking questions like this isn’t going to get us anywhere,” Ira interrupted, pulling up a blanket for warmth. “Bona, you should tell Ocean what Barnaby was screaming about the night before we left Paris.”

    “Shit,” he cursed. “How could I forget?”

    “Well, what happened?” I asked again.

    Bona was through with channel surfing when he left the news on, turning the volume down and placed the remote down on the nightstand. Ira sat up while holding onto the blanket. I don’t know why it felt so cold in the room all of a sudden, but that wasn’t our concern.

    “So you didn’t hear him yelling or anything?” Bona guessed. 

    “No,” I said, sitting down on the spare bed. “I was dead asleep.”

    “Well, I figured I guess,” he sighed. “I was already awake when I heard him, but that asshat woke Ira up.”

    “I was fine,” Ira yawned. “And he was upset so I didn’t just want to ignore it.”

    “And what was Barnaby upset about?” I asked for more details. 

    Bona frowned, looking down at the carpet floor for a moment before resuming the conversation. 

    “He was on the phone with a client,” he explained, sounding aggressive all of a sudden. “He was yelling at him ‘cause the guy was ripping him off and . . . I think he was weird about Barnaby’s body.”

    “Whaddaya mean?” I wondered. 

    Bona didn’t give me an answer and neither did Ira. I didn’t get it at first, but then I thought about the flings I had in high school. While some of the boys taunted me for my fatness, others loved it to the point of obsession. It wasn’t just a body preference, but it turned into a fetish for them. 

    “Ohh,” I finally realized. “Yeah, that’s fucking gross.”

    “Yeah,” said Ira. “That’s why he was so pissed at the guy. And think he threatened Barnaby.”

    “He did,” Bona confirmed. “And then — this is so fuckin’ weird — Barnaby said he wouldn’t care if the guy would try to kill him, ‘cause he said he already died once but he came back!”

    “What?!” I nearly gasped but brought my voice down to a whisper. “Are you serious?!”

    “I’m dead serious, man! I heard it from him, word for word, but he wouldn’t tell me anything!”

    “But did you try to ask him about it?”

    “Yeah, but . . .”

    Bona couldn’t find the courage to finish what he had to say, but luckily for him, Ira offered to provide me with an answer.

    “He asked Barnaby if he died,” she continued the conversation. “He said he was exaggerating, but then Bona asked him about what happened back in March. Barnaby got upset and went to bed.”

    “Wait,” I said. “Do you remember that letter he sent to Scottie where he talked about Mel?”

    “Yeah,” Ira nodded. “He mentioned something about March, right?”

    “Yeah, exactly!” I exclaimed. “But he was so vague about it.”

    “So was Jiro,” Ira recalled, turning her head toward the TV to look at the news coverage about Lamia. “He said that Barnaby felt worse since . . . I don’t know. He didn’t mention it.”

    “Yeah, I overheard that,” I said. “I think Barnaby did too, but I don’t think he cared.”

    “Man, I wish,” Bona remarked, grabbing a bottled water off of the other nightstand. He unscrewed the top off and took a quick sip before putting the top back on. “I mean, if he didn’t care, shouldn’t he be telling us this shit by now?”

    “I guess so,” I shrugged, unsure about what to do. “I would ask, but I’m scared that he’ll freak out.”

    “Maybe we could ask Scott or Jules?” Ira suggested. “That’s probably a better alternative.”

    “Y’know what?” said Bona. “I actually agree with that. That doesn’t like a bad idea.”

    “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” I opined. “We should do that when we have time.”

    “Good thinkin’,” Bona praised me. “Is that our plan then?”

    “Yeah!” Ira and I cheered, accepting the plan without a doubt.

    Once we made up our minds, we all turned in for the night and waited for tomorrow to come through so that we could talk to Jules or Scottie about Barnaby. However, whoever was controlling every aspect of life had other plans in store for us. Instead of meeting with either of them in private, Scottie kept us busy during our whole stay in Warsaw. From dusk ‘till dawn, we were out investigating churches, historical monuments, parks, and we came across some abandoned property. It wasn’t so bad since Scottie helped us out, but whenever we had the time to talk to him, we would suddenly forget about the plan. One moment we’re certain that we were gonna talk to him or Jules, but once we were alone in their company, we would get distracted.

    And just like that, Ira, Bona, and I decided to give up. Not only was it too tiring to remember, but we decided to not pry into Barnaby’s business. If it was that too sensitive for him to talk about, then I wouldn’t mind if he kept it to himself. Like Jiro said to Ira: Barnaby has been in pain for a long time now, and recently it has only grown worse. Forcing him to recall any trauma of some kind wasn’t our agenda, so we left him be. However, things turned in a different direction.

    Late into our last night in Warsaw, the three of us were back in our room and had our stuff packed and ready for the morning. While Ira and Bona were up watching  _ Beetlejuice _ , I was trying to get some sleep. The volume was turned down, but the light from the TV screen annoyed the shit outta me. Even though there was a thick comforter over my head, the light still came through it. I thought I was gonna lose my shit and have a breakdown, but suddenly I heard a knock at our door. Without hesitation, I jumped outta bed and rushed to the door to see who it was. I unlocked the door and slowly opened it to reveal Barnaby, who stood there with his arms crossed. He wasn’t mad, but he appeared to be exhausted. I saw goosebumps on his arms and figured that he was cold, but he wore a T-shirt, boyshorts, and a pair of knee-high socks.

    “Are you okay?” I asked, already feeling worried about him. He was looking down at his arms, but then snapped outta it and saw who was in front of him.

    “Oh, me?” he assumed. “I-I’m fine, but . . .”

    He was obviously too tired to talk, but I knew that something on his mind.

    “Do you wanna talk about it?” I inquired.

    “Yeah,” he whispered, almost driven to tears. Clearly, something was wrong, but he wiped away his tears and breathed slowly to calm down. “Can I come in?”

    “Sure, man,” I nodded, turning back to Ira and Bona. “Hey, Barnaby’s coming in for a bit!”

    “Oh, sweet!” Bona quietly exclaimed, waving at Barnaby as he entered the room. “Hey, how you doin’, Barn?”

    Instead of saying anything back to Bona, Barnaby quietly walked across the room and sat down at my bed, leaning over to rest his head in his hands. He was obviously troubled by something, but I still wasn’t sure if now was the time to ask. Once I closed and locked the door, I walked back to my bed and sat down next to him, waiting for him to say something. Luckily, it didn’t take him long to realize that he couldn’t sit here all night and think about it. Slowly, he raised his head and looked around the room, and then stared at Ira and Bona before facing me. After observing my face for a moment or two, he looks down at the floor.

    “I’ve been meaning to talk about this ever since I met you all,” he whispered, “but I didn’t have the guts to talk about it ‘till now.”

    “What is it?” I wondered. “What’s wrong, Barnaby?”

    Once again, he paused the conversation, but it was only going to be for another minute. He got off my bed and walked over to the table in the corner of the room, pulling a chair away from it. He put the chair in the center of the room, right in front of the TV so that he could grab our attention. Aside from that, he would be equally close to all of us. He sat down and stared at the carpet floor again, trying to think about what he was going to say. For a moment he looked sick and disturbed, but whatever he was thinking about probably wasn’t pretty. Then, he clasped his hands together and raised his head again, looking straight ahead. 

    “I died seven months ago,” he said with a blank expression on his face. “I died.”

    I let out a chuckle for a moment but then realized that his statement lined up with the evidence that we’ve talked about before. It was late October and March was seven months ago; Barnaby confirmed his death, but I didn’t know if we were to believe him or not.

    “This has to be a joke, right?” I asked. “If you died, you shouldn’t even be here.”

    “I know,” Barnaby replied, “but I am. It’s strange, but I’m here.”

    “But how?” Ira questioned him. 

    Barnaby just stared at the floor again and frowned, knowing that he was going to have a hard time explaining what happened. He got up right away and left the room, leaving the three of us surprised. Luckily, he wasn’t gone for too long and came back with a small book in his hand. It looked like a photo album of some sort, but for one moment, I wasn’t sure who it belonged to.

    “Hey, wait a minute,” Bona said, sitting up to peer at the book. “Isn’t that Scott’s secret photo album?”

    “Yeah,” Barnaby nodded, taking a seat. “We share it actually. I don’t trust myself with my secrets sometimes, so I have Scottie lock them away.”

    “Okay, makes sense.”

    Before he could open the photo album, Barnaby scooted his chair a few inches forward to get closer to us. He settled down once he placed his chair in the empty aisle between our beds, leaning back a bit to try and relax for once. I noticed he didn’t have a pack of cigarettes or a lighter on him, so he was probably a nervous wreck right now. He took a few deep breaths, trying his best to calm down. Whatever he was thinking about, it must’ve traumatized him. I could see it in his eyes because I had the same look when I heard the news about Corey years ago.

    “Are you okay?” I asked Barnaby, making sure that he was going to be okay. He snaps out of it and directs his attention over to me.

    “Kinda,” he lies. “Maybe . . . well, not really. It —”

    “It’s okay, man,” Bona reassured him. “If you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s okay.”

    “But I do!” Barnaby exclaimed, leaning forward a bit. “It’s just . . . it’s been on my mind every day.”

    He pauses for a moment, opening up the book to a blank page.

    “And it’s the same damn thought every day,” he continued. “It’s always, ‘I shouldn’t be here right now, but I am.’”

    “But being alive is great, no?” Ira inquired. At this point, I expected Barnaby to say no.

    “I dunno,” he sighed, looking down at the book with shame. “Living is too much to bear, but being dead bores you outta your mind. Does that make sense?”

    “Well . . . yes, actually,” she said, sounding somewhat disappointed. “I hate to admit it, but I can relate sometimes.”

    “Me too,” I replied. “I don’t like to talk about it, but I totally know how it feels.”

    “Hey,” Bona interrupted, “not to be a dick, but can we get back on topic?”

    “Oh, I’m sorry,” I apologized, remembering what Barnaby came here for. “So, what happened Barnaby?”

    Barnaby let out another sigh of worry, flipping through the photo album again to search for a particular photo. He probably needed the picture to set the story, but whatever it was, it probably wasn’t going to be pretty at all. Carefully, he flipped through each page until he came across the photo that he was looking for. However, instead of exposing it to us right away, he bookmarked it with his index finger and closed the book. He looked up and stared at us with determination; he was sure that he was ready to tell his story now.

    “Well, it’s obvious that I’m a stripper,” he started, “but I do sex work sometimes too.”

    “I knew that already,” I told him. “Ira and Bona told me about it.”

    “Well, that’s good then,” he said, cracking a small smile for a moment. “Like I said, I still do it sometimes, but I used to do it full-time.”

    “And you work as an author too, right?” Ira asked for clarification.

    “Yeah, I still write,” he nodded. “I’m actually gonna write a memoir about this trip when it’s over.”

    “That’s a good idea actually!” Bona said, his smiling widening. “I’ll definitely buy a copy when it comes out.”

    “I will too!” I promised. “Speaking of books, you did mention that you were writing another book in that one letter.”

    “I did,” Barnaby confirmed, “and it’s about my death. But I had to lie about why I came back.”

    I thought Barnaby admitting that he died was the worst part about this conversation, but I might be wrong. When I looked into his eyes again, they were filled with fear; he wasn’t shaking or anything, but he was clearly scared to tell us the truth. 

    “It’s just nasty and horrifying,” he warned. “I shouldn’t tell the world about it yet. Even now, I’m still a little hesitant to talk about it. But Scottie trusts you all, so I’ll tell you the whole story.”

    “Well . . .” I resumed. “What happened to you?”

    He turned around and stared at the TV, which was broadcasting the news now. I only saw bits and pieces of the news story, but the subtitles on the screen suggested that the local police found the body of a dead prostitute near a river. After the news anchor was through with the story, Barnaby turned around and faced us. 

    “People think doing sex work is fun,” he began. “I thought it was at first because I was getting paid to fool around, y’know?”

    He leaned over and put the book down on the floor, with its pages touching the carpet so Barnaby wouldn’t lose track of the photo. When he was through with that, he leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together, laying them in his lap while he tilted his head up to stare at the ceiling. After he lets out another sigh, he continues.

    “I love sex, but what I was doing wasn’t good for me. I didn’t quit though, because I didn’t want to disappoint my clients. I thought they loved me.”

    “But they didn’t,” I said.

    “Well . . . yeah, you’re right. They didn’t, but I always needed the reassurance. Unless someone fucked me, I always thought that no one would love me.”

    “But you don’t do it every day now,” I pointed out. “How come?”

    Barnaby leaned forward again, reached for the photo album and picked it up off the floor. He observed the photo for a few seconds, but then closed the book on his index finger again. He still wasn’t ready to show us the picture, but now he was about to tell us his story.

    “Scottie stayed at my place for a few days back in March,” he continued. “We fucked on the last night of his visit. It was great and all, but I cried afterward. I always cry after sex, but whenever it was with Scottie, he never knew what to do. He would always hold me in his arms until I fell asleep, but on that night he finally figured it out.”

    “What did he do?” Ira inquired.

    “Well . . . as cheesy as it sounds, he said, ‘I love you.’” Barnaby stopped there for a moment, blushing a bit once he remembered the comment. “I asked him what he meant, and he told me that he loved everything about me. I asked him, ‘Why?’ and he said that I meant everything to him. I was surprised because no one had ever told me that.”

    “Damn, really?” Bona asked.

    “Yeah, really,” Barnaby chuckled, pushing a strand of blonde hair back. “That’s when I realized that he loved me and that I loved him. He taught me what love is — that it’s patient and kind. That’s when I realized that the love I was given by my clients was neither of those things. That’s when I tried to quit, but . . .”

    He left his sentence trailing, unable to finish when I saw a tear trailing down his cheek. I asked him if he was okay, but he nodded and wiped his face clear. He took another deep breath and let out a sorrowful sigh.

    “I tried to quit,” he lamented, “but when I told one of my ex-clients that I wasn’t gonna do it anymore, he flipped out. He tried to bribe me for sex, but I said no. That’s when it happened.”

    Barnaby finally opened the photo album and turned it around to show us the photo. I wasn’t able to make out the picture in the dark, so I turned one of the lamps on to get a better look at it. When I turned and looked at the photo again, my jaw dropped in utter horror.

    I still thought he was lying about his death, but before my eyes was a photo of a dead Barnaby laying down on the floor in what appeared to be his bedroom. He was naked — with the exception of wearing panties — and his chest was covered in blood and gory wounds. He probably was stabbed multiple times, but whatever the perpetrator did, it was unforgivable. The wounds were so severe that I could barely see the surface of his bones, which was a first for me to see. Seeing pictures of dead people usually didn’t phase me, but the fact that Barnaby had to go through something so gruesome nearly drove me to tears.

    “Oh my God,” Ira murmured, taking the book from me to show Bona. Immediately, he gasped and clasped his hands over his mouth, stricken with terror.

    “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he cursed, drawing his hands away to hold the book. “What kind of sick fuck would do this?”

    “A sick fuck who thought he owned my body,” Barnaby said with a harsh tone, crossing his arms now. “I tried to fight back, but he was too much for me to handle.”

    “So he just killed you right there?” Bona assumed. 

    “Yeah, stabbed me right in the heart. After my soul left my body, I saw that he stabbed me a few more times before he ran off.”

    “Oh, God,” I whined. “I can’t imagine seeing such a thing.”

    “It’s awful,” said Barnaby, resting his head on his right hand. “And what I did to come back was so nasty.”

    “What did you do?!” Ira begged for an answer. She didn’t sound angry or anything, but she was desperate to find out what happened next. Barnaby leaned back again, looking up at the ceiling with a look of dismay on his face.

    “This is the part that I lied about,” he told us. “I wrote in my book that God gave me a second chance at life, but that’s not what happened. Shit, I didn’t even go to Heaven.”

    “Did you went to Hell?” I asked.

    “No,” he gently shook his head. “I went somewhere, but I wasn’t sure what it was. All I saw was whiteness and there was nothing around me. I had a breakdown but then . . . that’s when it came to me.”

    “What was ‘it?’” Bona inquired, trying to find out what it did. Barnaby paused the conversation once again, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds. While he sat there and stared at it, Bona closed the photo album and handed it back to Ira, who then passed it back to me. I looked at the cover of the book one more time and then placed it on Barnaby’s lap. He held onto it tightly and faced us again, ready to tell us the rest of his story.

    “It was Lamia,” he said, faintly smiling now. “I was like, ‘Who the fuck is this?’ and it told me that it was Lamia. It was in its human form.”

    “What did it look like?” I asked for clarification.

    “Remember the picture that Scottie took?” he reminded us. “It looked exactly like that, except it had eyes and it wasn’t bleeding. And it didn’t have wings or claws.”

    “It looked like a normal human being?” Bona asked.

    "Pretty much,” Barnaby replied. “Anyway, I was so scared. Not only because I just got murdered, but Lamia was standing right in front of me! I asked what it wanted, and it told me that it could bring me back to life, under a few conditions . . .”

    “And what were they?” Ira wondered, who was peeling one of her nails off. 

    “I . . .” he paused for a moment, glaring down at the book and then looked away as if something were behind him. He sighed, looking down at his socks. “I accepted the offer, but I fucked it in return. It also left a mark on me to remember what happened between us.”

    Barnaby fucked Lamia? He really fucked a demon? Just to prove it to us, he stood up and turned around, rolling up the back of his shirt to show off his back. Once again, he was right about this and wasn’t lying at all. On his back, there were two sets of claw marks, which have faded into scars now. Still, I couldn’t believe that I was looking at this with my very own eyes. _"_ _ He definitely fucked that thing,"  _ I thought. 

    “Do you believe me?” he asked all three of us. 

    “Yeah,” Bona said. “I mean that picture you showed us was real. You can’t fake that shit.”

    “Bona has a point, you guys,” Ira told us. “Besides, I don’t think even makeup artists could replicate something like that.”

    Barnaby pulled his shirt down, turned around again and sat back down, letting out a sigh of relief.

    “Thank you for believing in me,” he said. “It was very hard for me to go through. I mean, I didn’t care then because I was so horny and I was gettin’ that demon dick, but I still can’t believe that it happened.”

    “Is that why that one demon possessed you?” I mentioned, remembering that one dreadful night in Reneo. “It said you were Lamia’s whore.”

    “I guess so . . .” he said, sounding depressed about the whole ordeal. “I think Lamia wanted to fuck around with me. I guess it worked because I still cry about it.”

    He dropped the conversation right there, resting his head in his hands. I figured that he was having a moment and didn’t want to talk about it, so I sat there and stared at him. I know that it’s rude to stare, but I couldn’t help but feel like he needed the attention. I wish there was something I could do to help him, but I didn’t know what to do. After a minute passed by, I saw that Barnaby was shaking and I heard him weeping. 

    “I-I wish I wasn’t born,” he wept, raising his head up to face us. “I’m just a stupid, selfish whore.”

    “But you aren’t,” I reassured him. “You care about us, and you really care about Scottie.”

    “Yeah, man,” Bona nodded. “And you’re not a dumbass either. I still remember what you told me about the history of film.”

    “No way!” Barnaby protested.

    “No, Bona’s right,” Ira told him. “You know everything — I mean everything there is to know about the French Revolution.”

    “I . . . I mean you’re right about that,” he sniffled. “But so much bad shit has happened to me that I dunno if I should be alive.”

    “But you’re not alone, Barnaby,” I said, getting up off the bed. I walked up to him and pat my hand on his shoulder, trying my best to comfort him. “Look, we’ve all been through some shit, but we’re in this together.”

    He looked up to me, unsure about what he had to say about that. Tears were still pouring out of his eyes, but he wiped some of them off of his face and tried to toughen up. 

    “Why?” he asked, sounding somewhat confused. 

    “Because you’ve been there for me,” I told him. “I haven’t known you for too long, but I’m sure you’ve been there for Ira and Bona and Scottie.”

    “Well, yeah . . . but what else is there?”

    “You’re so strong,” Ira complimented, getting off the bed with Bona. “And you should never give up. Shit happens, but it’s only temporary.”

    “And you believe in me?” he asks for reassurance.

    “Well, duh!” Bona said, trying to lighten the mood. “You can do anything, man. Even when a couple of shitheads ruin your day, it doesn’t last forever. And like Ocean said, we’re here for you.”

    Barnaby smiled, getting up out of the chair to give Bona a gigantic hug. This surprised Bona for a second, but he smiled back and hugged him in return. He and Ira did well and so did I.

    “Thanks,” Barnaby whispered. “I owe you all.”


End file.
